Mad Love Series, Part I: Burn Me Down
by KELZTASTiC
Summary: the beginnings of the Joker and Harley Quinn's relationship, Harley as protagonist. rated M for later chapters and language.
1. Incinerate

**A/N: I don't own the Marvel characters Joker and Harley Quinn, or any other I reference in this fanfic. This is based on what I've read about Harley Quinn, and I did take some liberties with her background because I couldn't get that much info on it. If you don't like it, please don't flame me. I am open to CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM; mean comments do not make me better as a writer.  
I was heavily influenced by a lot of music that I listen to, and the Joker is based on Heath Ledger's performance, just to clarify that.**

**Burn Me Down**

Chapter 1: Incinerate/Introduction

_Burn me down, just like the match you strike to incinerate_

_The lives of everyone you knew_

_And what's the worst to take from every heart you break?_

_And like a blade you stain_

_Well I've been holding on tonight_

_Helena, My Chemical Romance_

"You have to understand, Miss Quinzel, this man is nothing like you've ever seen before. It's going to take a lot of stamina and hard work, but I think you are capable of helping him." My boss, the head of Arkham Asylum, for once in his life, appeared anxious, "Do you think you can handle it? You are the best we have now, and I would hate to see you leave because of these circumstances."

"What circumstances?"

"Well," his eyes looked distant; he couldn't look at me straight, "We've sent three of your colleagues to him already. One had to be committed afterward; the other two quit immediately, and had to be sent to some intense therapy before they recovered."

"Who? Who did you send?" I inquired.

"John Connors, Michael Ostrom…even your former professor, Mr. Forde."

"Professor Forde couldn't fix him?" I was surprised. He had been my primary professor in grad school when I attended New York University; he was extremely gifted in psychology. I had never seen anyone so intuitive. It shocked and scared me that even he couldn't understand this criminal.

"Are you sure that you still want to do this?" my boss bit his lip.

I exhaled deeply, "I will be fine, sir."

"Just in case, we have two bodyguards outside the door." He gestured to two of the surliest, most muscle-bound men I had ever laid my eyes upon.

"I see," I said simply, "Thank you. I will keep you updated on my progress."

"Good luck." He shook my hand vehemently.

I stared at the cell in front of me. It was one of maximum security; the most solid we had. I opened the door, and stepped inside.

It was darker than it usually was in the cells. I vaguely wondered why my boss did not have me exercise my psychotherapy in the open rooms, as we normally did. Perhaps he was afraid that this one could escape. I had heard he was a rather Houdini-like character.

I didn't notice anyone in the cell right away. I grew nervous, wondering if he had broken out of his straight jacket. Then in the darkness, I saw the distinct outline of a man sitting in the corner.

I stepped forward, "Excuse me, Mr. …" I squinted at my paperwork in the dim light, "Joker?"

His head slowly turned to face me, "Yes?"

"May I turn the lights on? It is very difficult for me to conduct my business in the dark."

"If it would please you," He said. His voice was calm, collected. I wasn't quite accustomed to that. My patients were always on-edge, very jittery and couldn't think clearly.

I crossed the room, feeling the soft, rubbery walls for the switch. When my fingers finally felt the hard plastic, I flipped it on, blinking fervently to adjust my eyes to the bright, fluorescent overhead light.

I sat on the floor by the door, smoothing my black pencil skirt, "Hello, Mr. Joker, I am Dr. Harleen Quinzel, a therapist here at Arkham. It seems you have driven away a few of my co-workers in the short few weeks you have been here."

"They haven't sent me anyone as beautiful as you." He said, smiling crookedly.

It was then that I got a good glimpse of his face. He could have been a handsome man; but his face was covered in white paint, clearly smeared on with his own fingers, his eyes were circled in black kohl, and it appeared as if he had lipstick on his thin, chapped lips. The red was smudged onto the scars that crossed his cheeks. It looked like he had a perpetual smile etched onto his face.

I had to admit; this so-called 'war paint' made me squirm a little. I was only 27 years old; new to the Asylum, new to my profession. And this was my first real challenge.

I exhaled again, "Thank you, but flattery isn't necessary."

"It is for you." His voice was perhaps the most frightening part of his persona; he sounded almost like a cartoon character mixed with a serial killer.

"Well, that's all fine, Mr. Joker, but I must really focus on you." I tucked a strand of my blonde curls behind my ear, scratching down notes.

"Can you take me out of these restraints?" he asked.

I looked up at him, and saw the genuine pleading in his eyes. I shook my head, "I apologize; I know they are exceedingly uncomfortable, but it would be unethical and very illogical to disobey my boss's orders."

"You use an awful lot of big words for a small woman." He observed.

"Please, Mr. Joker, can we talk about you?" I said, voice testy.

"Of course. That is what you are here for…what would you like to know?" His tongue quickly lashed at his lips; something I noticed that he did often.

"I have a quick personal question of my own to ask first…I hope you do not take this the wrong way, but…" I bit my lip.

"What?"

"Do those scars hurt?"

He shrugged, "I've had them for years, Dr. Quinzel. I got used to the pain, I guess."

"Oh," I felt somewhat silly for asking, "Why did you torture my colleagues into madness? Professor Forde was a friend of mine."

"They didn't send me someone who would try to understand me." He said matter-of-factly, "You look like a compassionate person to me. I am a very complicated man. As you may have noticed, I don't like people."

I held back a snarky comment about that statement.

"Well, I'm just here to figure out why, Mr. Joker." I tried to give him a reassuring smile, "First, may I ask why you call yourself that?"

"The Joker?" he closed his eyes, contemplating, "I didn't name myself. The media did. I didn't want a name. That's the point."

"Then…why dress up as a clown if you didn't want attention?"

"Oh, I wanted attention, Doctor. I thought, well, a clown is always happy, and that's how I look, so it made perfect sense. No one would expect the clown. No one would take me seriously, and that's exactly what I wanted. To prove them all wrong."

He shifted slightly, "Damn, these restraints are frustrating."

"I'm sorry." I said, meaning it. In a way, I pitied him. I knew he was a total psychopath, but he presented himself as someone sane.

"Anyway, I prefer to think of myself as an agent of chaos, you see. An anarchist in the truest sense of the word. I like social experiments. I like to prove myself wrong. It's how I learn. I learn how people think, how they react to certain situations." He explained, "You would never believe all I've come to understand about human nature."

"Like what?" I inquired, scribbling down everything he had said to analyze later.

"Ah…" he mused, "People reveal their true nature when they're about to die. When they are desperate, they will do anything. They will turn on their own mother if it saves their skin. People are only in it for themselves is what it really comes down to, Doctor."

"I suppose that is the very basis of who we are." I agreed, "Our first instinct is survival."

"Yes, but we don't particularly like to revert back to our old ways." He said, "We would prefer to be lazy and let other people do the work for us. We look for all possible ways to make things easier."

I didn't know how to respond. It was evident that he had spent a good deal of time observing the world. He was either completely mad or completely brilliant. It was difficult to discern.

I looked down at my watch. It had already been an hour.

I slowly stood up, "I have to go now. I will be back tomorrow to speak with you after I have evaluated my notes."

"You must leave me already?" he appeared disappointed, "You're the first one who has really listened. I sort of enjoy your company."

"You can enjoy for a long time, because I haven't even begun to tap into your brain." I said, opening the door. The two bodyguards' heads jerked toward me, and I held up a hand, "No problems here, guys. Just leaving."

They grunted a response and let me through.

"Goodbye, Doctor." The Joker called as the door slammed shut.

My boss was pacing about the hallway when I found him.

He saw me, and rushed over, "Are you alright? Please don't quit!"

"I won't be quitting any time soon." I chuckled a bit at his concern, "I'm perfectly fine. I think sometimes these patients need a woman's touch. He certainly felt more comfortable speaking to me than the others."

His face eased into relief, "Did he tell you anything important?"

"Nothing mind-blowing, no," I shook my head, "I think I can help him, though."

"It took the others a few sessions before they left…" my boss said, "If it gets too overwhelming, you must inform me immediately."

"Of course, but don't worry about me." I shifted the books in my arms, "Well, I have to head on home. Plenty to work on."

He nodded, "Yes, yes, go home and rest."

"See you tomorrow!" I waved him farewell as I left the asylum.

…

I live in the nicer part of Gotham, in a penthouse apartment on 5th Avenue. This was mostly due to the fact that my parents are quite wealthy. My father just comes from old money, but most of my childhood was spent in New York City. I don't feel that my parents spoiled me all that much after the age 

of 18, because they wanted me to learn the value of money. I was sheltered until I left for college, but there I learned responsibility and how to be a mature adult.

This apartment was a gift for graduating and getting my doctorate degree in psychology. To achieve that, I worked as a waitress part-time and went to school, which wasn't quite as easy as it sounds. But it all paid off in the end. I pay for everything myself now, considering my job at Arkham rewards me well enough.

I went inside, locking the door behind me, and then dropping my books on an armchair. I could get to those later. I needed some time to relax before attempting to understand the mind of psychologically unsound clown.

I crossed the living room into my bathroom, and started to run the hot water. A bath always helped me think clearly. I undressed, slipping into the water, leaning my head against the cold marble, sending a slight shiver throughout my body.

I tried to focus on the present, but honestly all that was on my mind was his face. I wondered what he looked like under all that face paint. Why did he choose to hide himself from the world, other than the obvious reasons? Of course, he wouldn't want to get caught, but yet he had been. Did he allow himself to be caught? No, that seemed a little too thought-out for him. After all, I had seen statements from him from my colleagues, saying that he never had plans. He always did things spontaneously, hoping for the right results. To me, that was hard to comprehend. I was the person who scheduled events months in advance.

I couldn't help thinking that maybe his way of life wasn't as mind-boggling as they made it out to be. Yes, breaking the law shouldn't be done; I spent my life adhering to society and what it dictated. Being in the upper class made it even more complex. Sometimes I had felt a little out of place with the girls my age, because they wanted to talk about boys and make-up, and I wanted to discuss Jane Austen and sociology.

I guess I had become a psychologist because I had a lot of issues of my own to work out. Once I arrived at college, I began to sort out everything that had held me back. My parents' expectations, my shyness, and feeling comfortable in my skin, in a phrase. I grew more confident and achieved all my goals, and I was proud of myself, as were my parents.

His face flashed again in my mind. And again. And again.

One meeting and this guy had me entangled in his web. I was not going to give up on him, though. My curiosity had been sparked, and I needed to know more. I wanted to get underneath the mask and see the real man behind it.

I got out of the bathtub, drying myself with a towel. I felt more determined now, ready to face him. I stared at my face in the mirror. Sometimes it was hard to believe that I had hated what had stared 

back at me. I now saw the curling blonde locks, the bright blue eyes, and the skin that hadn't seen enough sun in a while. Presently, I loved the way I was, and I wasn't going to let someone break me down.

My thoughts were interrupted as my cell phone rang on the counter next to me. I stared down at the screen, seeing the name "Maggie". I sighed, and flipped the phone open,

"Hello?"

"Harley, where the fuck have you been?" her voice demanded to know, "I've been trying to call you all day."

"You know I have no reception at the Asylum." I said, wrapping the towel around myself and heading for my bedroom.

"Yeah, well, Mom and Dad are tweaking because they haven't heard from you in like a week." Maggie was my younger sister; she was 22, and insanely headstrong. She was basically everything I wasn't; street-smart, athletic, and popular. She went to Cornell University and was currently trying to get into med school to be a cardiac surgeon. I didn't exactly trust her with my insides.

"Well, tell them I'm fine. It's just been really busy there. We have this new patient who is taking up a great deal of everyone's time, patience, and effort." I explained, balancing the phone against my ear as I put on sweat pants and a T-shirt.

"Oh yeah, yeah, you mean that Joker guy? Were you assigned to him?" she asked.

"Mmhmm, today," I replied, collapsing onto my living room couch.

"Really?" this information perked her interest, "What's he like?"

"I don't know, like any other sociopath out there. I just need to figure out his motivation in the crimes he committed." I yawned, "I can't really discuss any more of it because it's classified."

"You're seriously no fun at all." I could almost see her signature pout on the end of the phone, "Anyway, I got to get back to studying. The ventricles of the heart don't learn themselves."

"Ok, see you at Thanksgiving, sis."

"Bye!" she hung up.

I put my phone on the end table next to my couch, and turned on my television to the news.

"Gotham police are still searching for the unknown man who assassinated District Attorney Harvey Dent two weeks ago. There are no main suspects as of yet, but many authorities and witnesses have said that they saw the caped vigilante Batman at the scene of the crime. Our thoughts and condolences are with District Attorney Dent's family and friends. It was a great loss to the city of Gotham, and we here at Channel 5 will keep you updated on this story…"

I frowned. I couldn't believe that they had no leads yet. Harvey Dent was a kind and courageous man; I would think that they would try to honor his memory by catching this killer. I couldn't help 

thinking that perhaps this Joker had something to do with it. He did blow up the hospital in which Harvey Dent had been staying. Maybe he knew something about it…perhaps more than anyone else.


	2. A Very Mad World

**A/N: I still don't own these characters or any other ones I reference, etc. **

Chapter 2: A Very Mad World

_And I find it kinda funny_

_I find it kinda sad_

_That dreams in which I'm dying_

_Are the best I've ever had_

"_Mad World", Gary Jules_

"Good morning again, Mr. Joker; how are you?"

"Still dying a little more inside each day, Doctor," he replied bitterly.

"Well, that's a great attitude to have." I rolled my eyes, "The faster we can get to the root of the problem, the faster I can get you back into civilized society."

"You want to see me out there?" his eyes were hooded.

"I want to see all my patients do well once they leave here, Mr. Joker." I replied easily, "Shall we begin?"

"If you greatly desire to," he closed his eyes, and put his head against the wall. I could tell that his morale was starting to decline.

"First, I'd like to ask you about any involvement you had with Harvey Dent."

His eyes shot open, and he glared at me, fire in his eyes, "What the hell would you want to know about that?"

"Well, I find it a little suspicious that you blasted Gotham General, where Mr. Dent was recovering from his injuries." I said, a bit nervous at his ferocity on the subject.

"I saved Harvey Dent from that place. I let him escape. Whatever he did after that – that got him blown away, I mean – had nothing at all to do with me. I just let him loose." He explained, "I personally think it was the Batman."

"That's what they say on the news." I heaved a sigh, "But I don't like to believe that. Batman is a sign of an ordinary man conquering the evil that this city has succumbed to recently. He shows that people can accomplish anything if they-"

"You sound like a god damn greeting card." He said curtly, "I'm sick to death of people immortalizing this Batman."

"But people have immortalized you." I countered, "You are a symbol. Do you hate Batman because he does the opposite of what you want to achieve?"

"As I told him myself, Doctor Quinzel, he and I are what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object."

"I suppose that is an eloquent way to explain it." I considered it thoughtfully, "I think you both are stubborn individuals. But for an opposite cause."

"What do you think is my cause?" his green eyes flashed.

"Your cause is panic; you do what you do for shock effect." I said, straightforward in my response, "Batman sends a message to criminals, telling him that there is no real justice in what they're doing, and that they're going to be punished when they commit a crime. I think that what he does is good. It makes people frightened of the law instead of wanting to break it."

"I didn't think you were this righteous." He said, narrowing his eyes at me, "Maybe I was wrong about you being the only one to try to understand."

I was taken aback, "Well, those are my beliefs, and I apologize if they don't coincide with yours. That's life." I felt my tone grow sharp.

He gave me a half-smile, "That's more like it. I want to see some real emotion in you."

"I have emotions, Mr. Joker, but it isn't professional to show them to a patient." I sniffed airily, "This is about you, but you keep attempting to divert me from the subject. You have yet to tell me anything substantially important about your life."

"Do you honestly have a six foot steel rod shoved up your ass?" he thought this lewd comment was extremely funny, and burst into raucous laughter, which was, in a word, terrifying. His laugh rang out loud and clear, echoing off the walls, giving me chills up and down my spine.

"No, I don't, thanks for asking." I pushed the comment aside, "If I did, I'd certainly pull it out and jab your eye out with it, because you are frustrating me to no end right now."

He laughed even more at that, "Ah, just when I began to lose hope in you, you restore my faith. I like you, Doctor."

"Well, I dislike you." I rolled my eyes, "Can we get back to the point?"

"And what was that?"

"That this whole damn thing is about you!" I snapped.

"Ooh hoo, someone is angry." This made his smile even wider, "Your eyes get so dark when you get pissed off. It's sort of beautiful."

"I doubt that." I said, demurring.

"What, do you have some kind of inferiority complex? May I suggest seeing someone else in your profession, Doctor Quinzel?"

"Stop it." I said hotly, "I will leave now if you don't."

His smile disappeared, "You don't mean that."

"I do." I said firmly.

"I could tell you one thing about me. Would that make you happy?" he compromised.

"I guess. Is that all you're willing to offer?" I rubbed my temples.

"Yes."

"Fine, then. Tell me one thing."

"I am vastly turned on by you." He said, all serious in his face.

I stood up quickly, fists balled, "That isn't even sufficient! I'm leaving!"

"Don't, Doc-" I cut off his protest by a slam of the door.

I stalked out of the room. I waved the guards away, as they had started to move toward me because of the look of pure rage on my face.

I went into the bathroom, trying to contain my emotions. This man totally pushed me to my limits. How could he say something like that to me? How _dare_ he say something like that? He was clearly joking, too. I could see why the other doctors had left. This Joker guy picked up on people's insecurities and exploited them to his advantage. It was a typical torture tactic.

Well, I would not let him get to me.

I would not let his comments get to me.

No matter how much I wished they were true.

…

When I finally emerged from the bathroom, I saw my boss leaning against the wall, fervently puffing at a cigarette. He was a stress smoker, so it was obvious what had him fixed.

He looked up as I approached him, eyes wide and apprehensive, "Are you alright, Miss Quinzel? Will you be coming back to me?"

"Of course," I shook my head, "I just got overwhelmed. It won't happen again."

"Do you need to go home? Take a break or something? I've come to understand that he is very intimidating."

"I wouldn't say 'intimidating' is the right word to describe him." I said, "More like…impossible."

This caused my boss to take a long inhale of his cigarette, "Shit."

"I will make him better."

He smiled warily, "Your determination is reassuring, really, Miss Quinzel, but it's only been the second day and he has already made you run for cover."

This irked me a bit, "I didn't run for cover…I just needed a minute to regain composure. He made me let loose some emotions that I didn't plan on…"

He patted my shoulder, "I told you it would be difficult."

"Well, I didn't exactly believe you until now." I exhaled deeply.

"You still have some time left in the session. Do you want to go back?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes, I can." I put on a serious face and went back to the cell, nodding to the guards (I would have to learn their names someday, I thought vaguely) as they opened the door for me.

"Back for more?" his voice greeted me.

"I just can't resist you." I said, taking my pen out of my pant pocket.

"I knew it." His smile was surprisingly genuine this time.

"Now, Mr. Joker man, will you actually tell me something about yourself that doesn't involve me or your feelings toward me?" I asked.

"Ah, but you are so much fun to talk about." He replied, shifting a bit, "But yes, I suppose I can grant you one little tidbit."

"Alright then," my pen was poised above my notebook. I stared at him expectantly.

"I…" he looked pensive, "Hmm…this is hard."

"Really," I said, skeptical, "It is hard to recollect one detail about your 30 years of life?"

"Alright, fine, my favorite color is purple. Happy?" he said, voice tumbling out, rushed.

"I'll take it. But that wasn't what I was hoping for."

"Well, Doctor, what were you hoping for?" he inquired.

"I guess something more along the lines of your childhood. Your parents, siblings, anything like that. Things that may have influenced your behavior now."

"What the hell would you want to know about my parents?"

"From your irate tone, I see that you didn't like them very much." I noted.

He was silent.

"You revealed more than you preferred, didn't you?" I said, trying to hide my smug face.

"I said nothing."

"Don't sulk about it. Just tell me. That's why I'm here." I coaxed.

He appeared hesitant before speaking again, "I grew up in Gotham. We were pretty much poor because my father-" he almost spat the word, "-decided to declare his new job as being a booze hound."

He looked up at me. I gestured for him to go on.

He chuckled a little to himself, "I thought you going to say 'and how did that make you feel?'"

"Oh," I had to laugh at that, "No, no, I do my best not to be cliché."

"Anyway, he would come home every night at some late hour, completely drunk." His eyes had a faraway look, "He would beat my mom senseless."

"That must have been hard to watch." I interjected.

"Yeah, very," he said, "My mom was a good woman. She took care of me. She didn't deserve a man like my father. She deserved someone smart and respectful…it didn't matter about the money, just someone who would treat her like she was an equal instead of a crash dummy."

For some reason, I giggled a little at the statement before I could stop myself. I clapped a hand over my mouth, terrified of his reaction.

Instead of being angry, he smiled, shaking his head, "God, Doctor, you're a twisted bitch, you know that?"

"I'm so sorry." I said quickly, "I really didn't mean to laugh. It was just a nervous reaction. Please don't hate me."

"Why do you care if I hate you?" he cocked his head, intrigued.

"I…I don't know. I prefer for people not to hate me." I said, flustered, "I have had enough of people judging me throughout my life."

"Yeah? I bet they didn't think you could make something of yourself."

I was puzzled, "Why would you say that?"

"You look like a Playboy bunny, no offense."

I made a simpering face, "I definitely do not."

"Oh, please, have you taken a good look at yourself in the mirror recently? You've got this curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and huge boobs." He said, staring at the aforementioned body parts as he spoke about him.

I folded my arms across my chest in an attempt to deflect his lascivious eyes, "This is called sexual harassment."

"Not like you care. You're blushing from head to toe. And might I say it's pretty attractive." He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

I touched my face and saw that his observation was indeed right. I dismissed it, "Come on, why do you keep turning this conversation in my direction?"

"Because I can't keep my eyes off of you, Doc." He grinned.

"This really isn't professional." I averted my eyes from his, hoping he would stop staring at me as if I was a piece of ass.

"Do you ever have fun?" he sighed, resting his head against the wall, "Seriously, you need to get rid of your inhibitions. I find that life is infinitely better that way."

"That's because you live that way." I countered.

"I can't help thinking that you are a virgin."

"Excuse me?" I nearly squeaked in indignation.

He surveyed me, looked me up and down, "Yeah, yeah, you're a virgin."

"What the hell does that matter? I don't see what that has anything to do with this session and the state of your sanity, Mr. Joker!"

"I love how you say my name. It gives me the chills, you know. The ones of the lust variety."

"You're a fucking pig." I scowled.

"Rawr, there's a tigress in there somewhere." He was clearly enjoying this.

"Yes, well, you'll never know." I said somewhat teasingly.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Could be. Maybe, maybe not. Decide for yourself. I've had enough of you for today. I'll be back on Monday."

"Aw, I have to wait that long to see you?" he put on a mocking face of depression, "How will I ever survive?"

"Somehow I think you will." I said crossly, and left the cell.


	3. Flesh and Blood

**A/n: A chapter focusing on Harley's family life. This was where I took a lot of liberty with her backstory. So sorry if you don't agree with it, but I guess it's my interpretation. Reviews are wonderful, but flames are not. I still don't own the characters, DC COMICS does.**

Chapter 3: Flesh and Blood

_Send a heartbeat to_

_The void that cries through you_

_Relive the pictures that have come to pass_

_For now we stand alone_

_The world is lost and blown_

_And we are flesh and blood disintegrate_

_With no more to hate_

"_The Beginning is the End is the Beginning", The Smashing Pumpkins_

This weekend, I had decided to meet my parents for dinner in New York, considering that my sister had told me that they were worried about me, and with good reason. I didn't really contact them much while I was working, also excusing myself that I was 'too busy' to see them or coming up with other, well, in a word, completely lame causes for me not to fly out there.

The limo my parents had sent for me pulled up to their mansion in Long Island. A sprawling brick manor, it had an old-fashioned feel but had modern doors and windows, and the garden was still as well-kept as I remembered it. My parents didn't often use this house; only for special occasions and holidays. They usually resided in the city in a penthouse apartment because they both still worked constantly. Well, considering my father was chief of surgery at the hospital he worked for, and my mother still putting in 16 hours a day at her law firm, I was surprised that they even had time to see me.

The driver, who I didn't recognize (our previous driver, Lawrence, died last year from cancer), opened the door for me; I mumbled a 'thanks' and began the long trek to the front door.

I surveyed the landscaping as I walked. I hadn't been to the mansion in nearly 5 years. My parents claimed that they had been renovating it, but I knew better. My sister, whose senior prom was that year, used it for the weekend to access their entire contents of alcohol.

However, some little things were the same. The fountain on the left side, near the large oak tree where my tire swing used to be, was still spurting water, the tiniest koi fish darting around inside the marble. I smiled at the memories. My sister and I, at ages 8 and 3, respectively, trying to catch the fish and my mother pulling us away, laughing all the while.

My sister and I had a close relationship, but it wasn't always so perfect. She was the exact opposite of me, the daughter my parents had wanted me to be. I didn't resent her in the slightest; they expected more of her. In my opinion, she was the prettier sister, but she begged to differ. While I was fair and somewhat fragile, she had dark hair and olive skin like my mother. I took more after my father in appearance.

I finally reached the door, and took a deep breath as I rang the bell. I remembered the familiar sound, having a flashback to Christmases past when my relatives (I had many) would come to the door, presents in arms, most asking, "Where's the brandy?"

Of course, at approximately 6 years old, I didn't know what the hell brandy was, nor did I care. I was more interested if they had brought me a new Barbie doll.

The door opened widely, revealing (shockingly enough) my mother.

My mother, at 55 years old, was still a beautiful woman. She had long, dark hair like my sister's, and olive skin, betraying her Greek heritage. She was in shape; I had no idea how she had the time to exercise with her schedule, but with my mother, it was best not to ask questions. Today she was dressed to impress; a black and white Chanel dress I had seen in last month's Vogue, and black pumps.

One thing I could pride myself in was good fashion. I did inherit that from my mother, but that was pretty much about the only thing in which I could give her credit.

"Harley, sweetie, I've missed you!" she exclaimed, embracing me. I awkwardly returned it, not knowing how to respond to the sudden burst of affection.

"Um, hi, mom." I said, patting her shoulder.

"How long has it been, honey, a year?"

"It's definitely only been 5 months." I laughed a bit at her exaggeration, "Maggie's birthday, remember?"

"Oh, yes, yes, that's right." She said, shaking her head, "Time flies. God, you're looking older every time I see you."

I didn't know whether that was a compliment or an insult.

She must have noticed my confusion at the remark, and quickly added, "I meant more mature! But you were always too old for your body. Come in, come in, Daddy's waiting."

She ushered me inside, closing the door behind me. The parlor hadn't changed too much; it still had the ancient grandfather clock in the corner (it had been in our family for at least 150 years, and it hadn't worked for at least 99 of it), the original Matisse my great-grandmother gave my parents as an anniversary present, and the huge, disembodied head of a stag my uncle and father killed when they were teenagers. My family did not bother trying to hide the fact that we had money.

We crossed into the receiving parlor, where the fireplace was going (it was the middle of October), and my father was sitting on the couch, sipping some wine from his personal storage.

Every since I could remember, my father loved his wine. He drank it with every meal, and now being a psychiatrist, I couldn't help but speculate about the nature of that habit. Perhaps it was, like I said, just a habit, and maybe he did it to escape. Who knows? It wasn't hurting our family in any way, at least in no way that I knew of.

"Harleen," he smiled, standing up. He was the only person that ever called me by my full Christian name, even when I was a child. I liked 'Harley' too, actually preferred it, but it had always been ok for him to address me as such. It didn't bother me.

"Dad," I hugged him, as well. He was a tall, stately man, and like my mother, still active, healthy, and in shape. His hair had begun to gray at the temples, betraying his age, 56.

"How are you?" he asked as I sat down on the armchair across from him, my mother sitting next to him. He automatically put his arm around her shoulders. It warmed me a little to see the love they had for each other, even after being married for 30 years.

"I'm good." I replied.

"That's all I get? I'm good?" my mother raised an eyebrow, "Please, elaborate."

"Well, I guess I could be better." I sighed. Talking to my parents had never been easy for me. I continued, "They assigned me this serial killer at the asylum, and he's proving to be more of a challenge than I thought he would be."

"Serial killer?" my mother put a hand over her heart, "Is it safe to be near him? Why would they put you in danger like that?"

"I'm not in danger." I said, a bit impatiently, "The problem is that the man seems perfectly sane, but all evidence says otherwise."

"Who is he? Anyone we've heard of?" my father inquired.

"The Joker," I said. I needed no other explanation.

"Oh, God!" my mother's eyes widened, "They leave you alone with _him_?"

"Well…yeah," I bit my lip.

My mother gripped my father's shoulder tightly, and he cringed a little. I guess my mother was stronger than I thought.

"Harley, did you have a choice in this?" she asked.

"Of course, mom, I took the opportunity that I was given. I never thought I would be given a case this advanced until I was much older. How am I supposed to deny a chance like this?" I protested, "I knew all the things I was going to have to encounter when I walked into this job. You just have to trust me to do my best, and to walk away if I can't do it. But I want to help this man. He doesn't seem beyond help."

My father smiled, looking at my mom, "She's so much like you, Maria."

She snorted in disdain, "I really don't know what you're talking about, Henry. She's got your stubborn streak."

"Personally, Mom, I think that all the Quinzels are stubborn mules." I said bluntly.

"That is true," my father chuckled, "When do we ever give up?"

"I just can't give up on him. It's against my morals and the oath I took when I graduated. It's kind of like the Hippocratic Oath, Dad, but I guess a few clauses are different. It says basically the same thing, though; that we cannot deny help if it is needed, and we can't declare someone a hopeless case if we see any signs of improvement." I explained.

My mother relaxed, "Well, have there been any signs of improvement?"

"Not exactly," I admitted, "He's a hard man to crack. He doesn't seem to want to talk about anything that has to do with him personally. All I know is that his father was an alcoholic who beat his mom, and that's really about it. There's only so much I can go on from that information, and it was like pulling teeth to get that out of him."

"That's a start, though, Harleen," my father shrugged, "At least you have something."

"Yeah, I guess…" my voice trailed off, "I feel better about it because I know that I am the first person who has even been able to talk to him lucidly."

"What do you mean?" my mother asked.

"Well, three men – a few of my colleagues – have already tried, and they had no luck at all." I said, sighing, "Even my old professor."

"Forde?" my father raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that's the one." I replied.

"My God." My father's face was a perfect example of my own when I had been told the same news.

"I know." I said.

My mother appeared contemplative, "Sometimes, Harley, men need a woman's touch."

In response to that, my face flushed, "Apparently."

My parents both looked at me quizzically.

"He sort of hit on me." I said quietly.

Instead of being angry, my mother just laughed, "Well, that's not exactly a bad thing. You are an attractive woman, honey."

I turned an even deeper shade of scarlet, "You've got to be kidding me. You'd have some serial killer treat me like that?"

"Don't take him seriously." My father said, laughing, "You are so uptight. You should take some notes from…"

"My sister." I finished irritably, "I know."

I had gotten accustomed to hearing side comments like that from them throughout my whole life. They treated my sister like she was the second coming of Christ and I was just the embarrassment of an older daughter. I was just different from my family.

"Don't take offense." My mother said, sighing, "You always do this, Harley. We make one little suggestion and you act like it's the end of the world. You haven't changed much."

I narrowed my eyes, starting to get pissed off, "You guys invited me up here to visit and then we get into the same argument over and over again. This is why I don't come here anymore. You just get in my face about everything, and I don't want to hear it. I am 27 years old and perfectly capable of living my life without you two in it. I had to suffer for 7 years without any financial help because it would 'teach me a lesson', but Maggie gets everything she wants. You pay for _her_ medical school, but I get jack shit."

"Watch your language." My father said.

"I don't give a damn about that, Dad. That's exactly my point. You don't listen to me. You never have and you never will. I know I'm a disappointment to you, somehow. I don't understand your logic at all. I know Maggie's the golden child; I accepted that a long time ago. If you think I'm going to sit here and listen to your attempt at polite conversation with your own daughter, you're out of your fucking minds." I held up a finger when my father opened his mouth, "I don't want to hear it, I said. I'm leaving. 

I'm getting the first flight out of here, and I guess I'll see you guys at Christmas if I'm charitable enough to show up."

I then stood up, and stalked out of the room.

My mother tailed me, "Harley, we didn't say any of those things!"

I swiveled, "You didn't need to, Mom. I have a degree in psychology and I know my own mind better than anyone else's, but I have a pretty good idea about how you two operate."

"We just want what's best for you." She pleaded.

"You say that every time!" I exclaimed, "Every time we argue! You've never done anything about it, so I gave up. I gave up on ever getting a straight answer or good advice, because I've had to do everything on my own these past few years, Mom. I've had to depend on myself."

"You can't deny that we spoiled you for 18 years." My mom said, eyes cold, "We don't treat your sister better than you. You two had the same advantages."

I almost burst out laughing in her face, but I thought that a little rude.

"Right, keep believing that, Mom." I opened the front door.

"Fine, just walk out like you always do." She said, "You'll be back."

"Good-bye," I took off down the driveway, trying to hold back my angry tears. Why was that every time I saw them, I acted like a child again? This was a whole other side of me that I didn't want to show to anyone. My parents could read me like a book, unfortunately.

I needed to be alone again. This whole Joker business was driving me up the wall.

But he hadn't left my mind.

Little did I know he never would.


	4. Too Close for Comfort

**A/N: Don't own anything I reference. **

Chapter 4: Too Close for Comfort

_It's a thief in the night to come and grab you_

_It can creep up inside you and consume you_

_A disease of the mind, it can control you_

_It's too close for comfort_

"_Disturbia", Rihanna_

I swiped my identification card for Arkham and waited as the iron gates opened. I came back to work early, hoping to keep my mind off my narrow-minded parents.

I shook my head to rid my nagging thoughts, and to focus on the matter at hand. I still hadn't found out one single significant thing about this Joker guy, which concerned me. I considered myself to be at least decent at what I did, otherwise I wouldn't have acquired the job. Of course I hadn't anticipated this type of patient before, the one that would challenge me beyond my limits as a psychologist.

My boss waved me into his office when he saw me, "Did you have a good weekend? Mentally prepared for today?"

"I guess," I replied with a yawn, "I took a weekend to recuperate…"

Clearly that hadn't panned out well at all. Seeing my parents had just made me more strung out than I already had been, so it was a wasted trip for the everlasting hope that my parents wouldn't be, in a word, douche bags, and try to interfere with my personal life.

Good Lord, I might need some psychiatric help myself after this was all done and over with.

He still appeared nervous, "Doctor Quinzel, you can still back out if you wish to."

"No," I said firmly, "I told you I'd take this case, and I will. I will complete it if it kills me."

"Well, hopefully not." My boss pointed out.

I rolled my eyes, "It was a metaphor, thank you very much. I'll see you later."

"Good luck." He called after me as I left the office.

I once again made the familiar trek to the Joker's confinement cell, wondering vaguely what he would say today. I nodded to the guards, who both made an incoherent grunt in response.

I went inside.

"Morning, Doc." He greeted me cheerily.

"And to you as well, Mr. Joker," I replied, but not nearly as pleasantly.

"Something got you down, darlin'?"

"It's none of your concern." I said flippantly, "As I keep reiterating, we're here to talk about you and I am not going to waste this precious time I have to talk about my own problems."

"You have problems?" he smirked a little, "I'm surprised, to be honest."

"Why would you say that?" I was curious.

"A beautiful, intelligent woman such as yourself should have no trouble making her way through life." He cocked an eyebrow, "Am I right?"

"That's a common stereotype." I shrugged, "Just because I'm attractive and intelligent doesn't mean I will get what I want. I think I'd like to believe that I am where I am because I earned it, not because I used my appearance."

"Ah, but we all use our best traits to our advantage." He relaxed, "I know how to manipulate people, and I know how to use fear to achieve my goals."

"That's a warped view of it."

He just chuckled, "If you haven't guessed yet, Doc, I'm pretty warped."

"It hadn't been evident until this exact second, yes," I said sarcastically, "Now can we please get on with the session?"

"Only if you'll get it on with me." He smiled lewdly.

"Oh, shut up." I said, trying to make myself appear indifferent, "We had a bit of a break-through on Friday. Tell me more about your father."

"Besides the booze-hound part?" he said shortly.

I faltered, "Yes."

"He worked at a steel mill all day; that's all my mother would tell me. Sometimes I think she was shielding me from the truth, which happened often."

"Do you resent her for that?"

"No." he snapped, "Why would I resent her for protecting me?"

"Sometimes children are inquisitive, and sometimes they are not. You're just the latter, sorry," I threw up my hands in defense, "I'm only trying to do my job here."

"All I could see was that my father treated my mother like shit and it made me so angry." His face contorted into a false smile, "I wanted to rip him to shreds."

I scribbled quickly. This information was a goldmine. I was inherently shocked that he was revealing all of this to me, but I wasn't complaining!

"Did anything push you over the edge, per se?" I asked, "I mean…well, let me elaborate. Considering your present behavior, there must have been something significant to make you become this way."

His mouth turned into a sickly-sweet grin, "Do you really want to know?"

That smile made me very, very nervous, "Um, well, I suppose."

"Ah, ah," he shook his finger, "Be confident in your answer, Doc."

"Yes, I do want to know." I said steadily.

"Fine, then," he settled back against the cushioned wall, "One day, my father came home, even more drunk than usual. He thrashed about the house, shouting up a storm, screaming for his god damned whore wife and good-for-nothing son. I was 6 years old at the time."

He looked at me, expecting some type of acknowledgment, and I gestured for him to continue.

He obliged, "Anyway, he chased my mom into the kitchen. I had been sitting on the floor playing with my toy car…I loved that thing…well, my mom took out the butcher knife to defend herself from his drunken wrath, and he just leered at her, saying, 'You won't use that.' 'Just watch me,' she replied. He wrestled it away from her and looked at me with those familiar blood-shot eyes. I had been watching the entire scene, eyes wide and frightened. He picked me up and I almost began to cry. He shoved the knife in 

my face and said, 'Son, why so serious? Let's put a smile on that face.'" His voice broke a little at the end of the story, "And then…he…well, you can see what he did."

He touched the scars on his face, wincing at the memory. Or perhaps for the pain it induced; I wasn't quite sure.

"Why are you crying, Doc?" he asked.

I touched my face and felt the tear stains on my cheeks. I wiped at my eyes, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…I usually don't get emotional like this…"

He stared at me, almost in admiration, "I like the vulnerability. It shows me that you're human instead of the robot you want people to think you are."

I glared at him through my tears.

"I touched a sore spot. I apologize." This time, he appeared as if he meant it, "You know, it makes me angry when women cry."

"Why?"

"Because I always feel like I've caused it and I can't do anything about it. And seeing you cry makes me want to help you, but yet I'm helpless." He sighed.

"_You_ want to help _me_?" I threw my head back, "Oh God, this is turning into role reversal."

"I suppose it is." He mused.

"I'm sorry to have gotten emotional over this, Mr. Joker, that wasn't professional." I said, wiping at my eyes, "I am supposed to be objective, but when I am around you, things seem to change."

"In what way?" he asked.

"I don't know, just…they change. You intrigue me…" I bit my lip, "I don't really know how to describe it eloquently for you."

"I feel the same about you, Doc." He said, throwing me off-guard.

"I…" I was speechless, "What could you possibly want to know about me? I am certainly not all that interesting."

"What I find intriguing about you is the fact that you want to hide yourself. You somehow feel the need to put on this façade for the world, and you don't need to. People like me can see right past that. I know inside you aren't a…well…stone-cold bitch. Somewhere inside there's a part of you that is just bursting to break free of the chains you put on yourself. The reason you're not married or whatever is because you won't allow someone to be attached to you for fear of them knowing who you really are, what you're really like beneath the surface. I think you secretly want to be like me, to be independent and to be carefree, but you allow yourself to deny it. I think life is best living in spontaneity. It's worked pretty well for me so far." He looked at me, waiting for some type of response.

In all honesty, I had no idea what to say.

How could he meet me a grand total of 3 times and already assume all of that about me? Granted, he had a lot of time to think. I could never admit that most of it was true, because that would be like letting him win, and there was no way in hell that was ever going to happen. I had to exercise my authority over him. I was his doctor, he was the patient. But why was it damn hard to establish that relationship?

"You are so silent because I'm right." He grinned widely, and I saw the torn skin crack under the weight of the smile.

"I choose not to respond." I said stiffly.

"Seriously, Doc, just get laid. It will loosen you up. In some ways more than others," his grin turned into a smirk.

I narrowed my eyes, "Do you find it appealing to make fun of me? I am technically your superior, but you treat me like I'm the type of person you can push around. Well, if you think that, think again, because I don't give in to people like you. I don't give in to your bullshit. I can walk down the hallway right now and tell my boss that you are not capable of being cured, and we can send your ass right down to a room where no one will ever see your face again."

He wasn't fazed, "You wouldn't do that to me. You're too involved now."

"Excuse me?"

"You are too emotionally invested in this case now." He looked completely smug as he said it, "You want to see me get better. There lies your problem. You know deep down that I will never change my ways for you."

"I can only hope." I said, slightly intimidated by the statement, "Part of my job is to make sure you can function in normal society…"

He snickered, clearly trying not to laugh at me, "You are so optimistic. It's adorable."

"Will you stop saying that?" I snapped.

"What?"

"That I'm pretty, beautiful, sexy, whatever. It isn't getting you anywhere. If you think I'm going to fall for that – or for you – you're out of your damn mind." I said venomously.

"I can only hope." He said softly.

I stared at him, beyond confused. Did he just to admit to…liking me? I thought all those jokes had just been banter…but maybe…did he actually mean them?

"I, I, I have to go." I stammered, getting up.

"So soon? Can't you stay longer?" he seemed sincere. But I never knew with him. It could all just be an act and I was a complete sucker.

"Sorry, I can't, Mr. Joker. I have other things to attend to." I made a move to open the door.

"Doc?" he asked.

I turned, "What?"

"Can we please meet in one of the normal psychiatric rooms? Where you usually conduct business? I need to get out of here. I'm going fucking crazy…" he paused, "Well, crazier."

I, in a way, pitied him, "Um, well…I can talk to my boss about it, but I'm not making you any solid promises."

He looked relieved, "Thanks. You're a good woman, Doc."

"I try." I smiled.

I closed the door, and slumped against it, feeling overwhelmed.

The guards looked at me strangely; I just waved them off.

…

When I arrived at home, I collapsed on my couch, contemplating my situation. What the hell had me so fixed about this guy? He was nothing special, really. He was a common criminal, a thief, a murderer…all he had done was despicable, terrible, and downright cruel.

But I found myself attracted.

In what way was I attracted? I tried to reason with myself. (That's the too-many years of psychology classes showing up.) Why was I attracted? I guessed because he was nothing like a guy I'd ever go for. He was crude, a total ass, in fact. But in his eyes I saw something that somewhat resembled torment. Maybe he didn't want to be this way. He could have been thrown into this life by factors out of his control. Considering his pretty traumatizing childhood, it was almost inevitable.

Most people with a bad childhood either get past all the things that could stop them and become very successful. This was a relatively small percent compared to the people who allow it to consume them. And he was just another one in that category. Without any real guidance, the man didn't know how to act appropriately as an adult, because his father was a complete disappointment and his mother seemed to be a good woman, but not very strong. His role models were a severe problem. He didn't have any.

It's difficult to solve those kinds of issues. A lack of parental supervision aids to the lack of morals and capacity for violence…that could be why he was so detached and unemotional when it came to his crimes.

But, yet, inside, there was someone that could possibly care about other people. He had shown me more emotion than (at least I assumed) anyone else would ever see. He could just be very desperate to get out of there, but maybe he was sincere. It was hard to discern.

Underneath all that make-up, there was a good-looking guy. I could tell by his face structure that he wasn't some typical punk. But how could I really know?

I lie awake in bed all night thinking about this ordeal, hours and hours. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't think about anyone else but him.

What was it that was so appealing?

I would never admit it to him, but his analysis had been on the mark. I was someone who longed to be the wild girl, the girl everyone wants to be with…because I had never experienced that feeling. I wanted to be the opposite of what I was. I wanted people to admire me, to care about what I thought. I don't want to be this self-conscious, uptight bitch that everyone thinks I am. This Joker guy's personality was exactly what I desired, sans the criminal part.

I wanted to be noticed.

More than that, I wanted him to notice me.

Chapter 5:


	5. I Hate to Love You

**A/N: Don't own anything I reference, yadda yadda. I like this chapter.**

Chapter 5: I Hate to Love You

_You don't know what I've seen_

_You can see that I've been damaged without you_

_And I don't know where you've been_

_I can wash your sins away_

_We're too young_

_I hate to love you._

"_You Can't Be Missed if You Never Go Away", Cobra Starship_

I was drawn back to him like a moth to the flame. I couldn't be away from him for a day without wanting to go back, but I'd never show it. I had to remain objective…I couldn't let myself get involved, even though I couldn't help myself. I didn't want to fail. One thing about me was that I was determined, or, well, completely obstinate. It's amazing how often those two traits come together.

I walked into my boss's office, where he was working on some stack of papers. I sat down in the chair across from his desk, waiting expectantly for him to notice my presence.

He looked up, "Oh! Doctor Quinzel, I didn't see you there. Is there a problem?"

"Well, I have a question."

"And what is that?"

I blinked a few times, silent, finally saying, "I don't exactly know how to go about this…"

"Just tell me, Doctor Quinzel, I don't have much time for this." He said, annoyed at my hesitance.

"Ok, ok, my patient wants to move into a regular room. A real examination room." The words tumbled out of my mouth.

My boss just stared at me, "Do you think he's ready for that? To be out of his confinement? I will agree to it if you think it will be beneficial for him."

I exhaled, relieved, "Well, yes, I do. He feels cooped up in there, kind of like a caged animal. It makes him agitated, and I think it will make him more relaxed to be out of the room. He always feels reluctant to tell me anything, and perhaps the different surroundings will make him feel more at ease."

"If you think it will work, then do it. I will send Ray and John with you." He said.

"Who?" I asked.

"You ever consider knowing the names of your bodyguards?" he chuckled a bit.

"Oh…" I said, flushing slightly, "Now I know then."

"Good," he shooed me away, "Go fix the serial killer."

"Yes, sir." I left the office, waving to Ray and John, "Hey, guys, can you escort Mr. Joker to examination room 4, please? I will be there in a moment."

They grunted in acknowledgment, and went into the cell.

I took a trip to the bathroom, hoping to get a few moments of peace before the storm. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, seeing my blood-shot blue eyes up close. I rubbed at the dark circles under my eyes, a result of my sleep deprivation the past couple of days. I didn't look like myself today.

Why was I changing?

…

"Good afternoon, Mr. Joker." I said, entering the examination room.

"Hey, Doc," he greeted me cheerily, "I like the new digs. Much more exciting than the rubber walls."

The room was that of a typical psychiatrist's office. It had a small oak desk in the back center, a long chaise for the patient, a few bookcases with reference books, an Oriental carpet, and large windows.

He was lying on the chair, staring up at me as I walked past him. They had removed some of his restraints, as I had previously requested. This made me a bit nervous, because that meant he could move around, have use of his arms. While Ray and John were at my dispensation, I couldn't help but feel anxious about the situation.

"I hoped you would like it." I took my seat at the desk, "Well, shall we begin?"

"Begin what?" he stood up, walking to one of the bookcases.

I frowned, "Don't be coy. I need to observe you."

"You can observe my naked body if you'd like." He said in a teasing tone, opening one of the encyclopedias.

"Get serious, please," I didn't let it affect me.

"My sincerest apologies, Doc." He swiftly turned the pages, "Ask away."

"Alright," I glanced at my notebook, "We left off at your father giving you those…" I swallowed, "…scars. What happened next in your life?"

"My mom left." He said, slamming the book shut, "I was 12."

"I see," I said quietly, "Well, how did you react to that?"

"I was fucking pissed off!" he turned to face me, "How did you expect me to react? She left me there with that god damn drunkard!"

"So did you resent her?"

"No, not really." He calmed down slightly, "She had to do what was best for her. Being there was ruining her self-esteem, or, well, whatever self-esteem she had left. I wanted her to be happy. I could hardly blame her, but I did at the time."

"Did she tell you that she was leaving?"

"No, but she left me a note explaining why." He said, collapsing onto the chaise, "She told me that she wasn't leaving me, she was leaving my father. She couldn't take me because she knew that I could handle being on my own. She said she loved me and we'd meet again someday."

"Did you ever find her?"

"No." he closed his eyes, apparently pained, "She never tried to contact me after that. I looked all over Gotham, but no sign of her. I checked hotels, phone books, family's places, no one had seen her. It was as if she had completely disappeared. But I'd like to think that she's happy now, wherever she is."

My eyes welled up with tears. I complained about my mother, but she at least had always been there for me. She had seen my first day of school, my cotillion, my high school prom, my graduation from college…imagining life without her would be impossible.

"Do you miss her?" I asked, voice choked up.

"Yeah, at times." He replied, sitting up, "Are you crying again?"

"No," I said, fiercely trying to blink away the tears.

He walked over to the desk, "Stand up."

"Why?"

"Come on, just do it."

"I want to know why." I said stubbornly.

"If you don't do it, I'll beat you to a pulp."

I reluctantly obliged. To my complete and utter surprise, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into an embrace. I stood there stiffly, confused as to what to do. I slowly relaxed into the embrace, and he said in my ear, "You don't need to cry for me. I'm not worth it."

I pulled away, looking up at him, "Why would you say that? You're like everyone else. You've been through so much more heartache than I will ever experience."

He looked into my eyes, trying to find a trace of insincerity. We held the gaze for a moment or two, a tense silence between us. He finally released me, stepping away.

"I'm sorry." He said, back turned, "I didn't mean to do that."

"Do what? Show affection for another human being?" I walked around him, causing him to look at me, "You're allowed to do that, you know."

"Yes, well, you're my psychologist. I shouldn't be harboring these kinds of feelings for you." He said curtly.

"What kinds of feelings?"

"I don't know." He said, exasperated, "I can't explain it. I hate people, but yet I want to see you."

"That means that you're having a break-through." I grinned, excited, "You are learning to have compassion for the human race again."

"I doubt that." He gave me a crooked smile, and said, "God, Doc, you have a beautiful smile. I wish you would do that more often. It makes you look at least semi-human."

I gave him a simpering look, "Thanks a lot. Take a seat and let's continue with this session."

"As you command." He sat down, "What else do you want to know?"

"So your mother is gone. What did you do next?"

"I stayed out of the house as much as possible. I joined a gang at 14. I soon became the leader because I was the most ruthless out of them all. I could do things indiscriminately."

"I see," I scribbled everything down as he spoke, "What did you guys do?"

He laughed, "What didn't we do? That would be a more accurate question."

"What I mean is…were they petty crimes or severe ones?" I clarified.

"Depends on what you consider severe," he locked his arms behind his head, "I didn't kill anybody, if that's what you were wondering."

"Ah," Inside I was comforted, "How long were you in this gang?"

He thought about it for a moment or two, "2 or 3 years, I believe from when I was 15 to almost 18. I left voluntarily. They didn't want me to. They claimed that I was the best leader they ever had. We were never caught. We wreaked havoc and no one could ever find us."

"Why did you leave?"

"I was getting tired of being responsible for other people. I am a very independent person. I prefer to work alone if it suits me." He smiled, "Most of the people who work for me just end up being killed some way or another."

"Why?"

"Because, Doc, I can't keep people around me for too long. They start to learn too much for their own good, and sometimes they think of throwing a coup d'état." He shrugged, "I just like to make sure that doesn't happen."

"You like to be in charge then." I concluded.

"Exactly, sweetheart." He threw me a cocky grin, "In all aspects of my life."

"Must you turn everything into sexual innuendo?"

"Your reaction amuses me." He said blithely.

I looked up at the clock, and my eyes widened, "Wow, it's already been an hour and a half. I have to go, Mr. Joker, but I will be back tomorrow."

He was clearly upset, "What? No, you can't leave yet! I don't want to go back to the room!"

"I apologize, but really, I have to…" I turned to go, but he grabbed my arm.

"Doctor Quinzel, I don't want you to leave." He said softly.

I turned to see his face only inches from mine. I tried to find my voice, "I…I'm sorry. I have to go. Our session is over."

I was pressed against the oak of the door; I could feel the cold wood against the back of my thighs and arms, his hot breath on my face. My heart beat faster, terrified and stimulated at the same time.

"I can't resist you." He said, "At night, I think about you. Your face keeps appearing, and I can't stop it." He stroked my cheek with his finger lightly, sending a shiver throughout my body.

I couldn't respond; I was held still by his gaze.

"I've never felt anything for someone like this, Doc."

"We can't." I whispered.

"Why not?"

"It's against every rule in the book." I replied harshly, "Do you know how much trouble I could get in if someone knew?"

"I'd imagine quite a lot." He said, but clearly didn't give a damn.

"I can't." I said, firmer this time, "I have to go."

He didn't release me, his face growing closer to mine by the second.

"Don't." I murmured, "Please."

"Don't what?" I felt his lips graze my own.

"Don't kiss me."

I pulled away quickly, grabbing the door knob, twisting it and exiting the room before he could get a word in edgewise.

I slumped against the door, sliding to the floor, face in my hands. I felt exhausted, baffled, and, in a weird way, thrilled. It was such a mix of emotion; I just started to cry ungracefully into my palms.

Ray and John, who were standing a few feet away, rushed to my side.

"Are you ok, Doctor?" Ray, who was a tall African-American man with a bald head, helped me to my feet.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Just…overwhelmed." I said shakily.

"Did he do anything to you, ma'am?" John, who was a little shorter man, tanned and quite muscular with a crew cut, asked.

"No," I lied, "This experience is taking a lot out of me. I need to go home and rest. Thank you for your concern, guys, but I'll be fine."

"You know, ma'am, we can rough him up a little if you'd like. No one needs to know." John said conspiratorially.

"That's not necessary." I shook my head, "Just escort the patient back to his cell, and yes, you are allowed to 'rough him up' if he resists too much."

Ray looked sort of pleased at that statement, "Yes, ma'am."

I walked away from the examination room, still somewhat unsteady. I hadn't been expecting any of that to happen. Deep down, I felt a sort of happiness at the attention he had shown me. That was so wrong, though, utterly unprofessional and…I just couldn't think straight anymore.

Perhaps tomorrow we would forget about everything.

But I really doubted it.


	6. Over the Line

**A/N: I like the chapter title. Happy face.  
I don't like the fact that I don't own the characters because I have to keep writing this disclaimer.**

Chapter 6: Over the Line

_How many times can I break till I shatter?_

_Over the line, can't define what I'm after_

_I always turn the car around_

_All that I feel is the realness that I'm faking_

_Taking my time_

_But it's time that I'm wasting_

"_Shattered", O.A.R._

I didn't want to think about what had just transpired between the Joker and I. I didn't want to believe that I had felt the spark of chemistry between us. I didn't want to believe this at all.

How could I let myself be led into this?

He was a charismatic sort of man, but not in a way that most would find suitable.

My head was spinning, confused, excited, so many things…giving me a headache. It was hard to believe that he had almost kissed me, or moreover, that he had _wanted_ to kiss me. This was crossing some kind of barrier.

I slipped into the warm bathtub, feeling the warmth spread through my body from my head to my toes. I felt all my tension release into the water surrounding me, listening to the soft music I had playing in the background.

I tried to focus on relaxing, but it was increasingly difficult. I was so unwilling to see that I had feelings for this Joker guy. I was in denial. But how many times could I deny my heart until it breaks completely?

I didn't know if this romance was all an act. Some psychopaths fake these sorts of relationships to break free of prison. I'd seen it before. They let the women be influenced by them, being charming and acting sane, but inside, they were plotting escape. After that, they'd kill the women. I lived in Gotham; crime was everywhere. And this guy was the most frightening "agent of chaos" they had ever seen.

I yearned to believe that he could change. But I knew he never would, especially not for me.

God damn it, I'm acting like I'm his girlfriend or his wife, not his professional superior.

I was terrified of the consequences of my actions. I could tell my boss what was happening, but he wouldn't be able to put a stop to it. The Joker was obviously a man who knew what he wanted, and wouldn't quit until he did.

And I guess his target was me.

My cell phone rang, interrupting my thoughts.

I stepped out of the tub quickly but carefully, and looked at the caller ID. My boss?

I picked up, "Hello, Doctor Quinzel speaking."

"Doctor Quinzel? We've got a problem." He said, sounding grave.

"What's the problem?" I asked, voice sounding far away.

"I was watching the security tapes from today…and…well, I assume you know what I'm talking about here." He didn't sound angry, or upset. His voice had no emotion, which scared me even more.

"I…yes." There was no use denying it.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't necessary. He won't do it again." I said, not even believing my own words.

"Are you sure? He's a dangerous man. You have to keep close watch on him."

"I will, sir, I will." I said vehemently, "I was just taken aback, that's all. I didn't know how to react to that situation…it's never happened before."

"Well, if it does happen again, tell me." He commanded, "I will do something about it if it's affecting you in any way."

"I'm fine, really." I reassured him, "Please don't worry about me."

"You know I'm still going to." He mumbled.

"Good-bye, sir." I said, smiling.

"Good-bye, Doctor Quinzel."

Why would he worry? This was only an infatuation…right?

…

"Nice to see you again, Doc," I was greeted when I entered the room. He was on the chaise, and not quite as cheery as he had been before. They had put the arm restraints back on him.

"Pleasure's all mine, Mr. Joker." I retorted, sitting at the desk.

"Ha, I wish." He said irritably.

"Those sexual advances got you in trouble, didn't they?" I said, opening my notebook.

"Did you tattle on me, Doc?" He leaned his head against the back of the chair, eyes rolled back to look at me.

"No. They saw it on the security cameras." I corrected him.

"Oh, so this is being taped." He mused thoughtfully, "I wasn't aware."

"Honestly, I forgot about that." I said, sheepish, "I should have told you at the beginning of our sessions together."

"Can they hear what we are saying?" his eyes darted around the room, searching for the aforementioned camera.

"Not exactly," I admitted, "But they can see everything. I think they can determine what is going on depending on our movements and facial expressions. They might be able to hear it, but the frequency isn't high enough…plus they felt it would be intruding too much on the session for patients to know that."

"Ah," he said simply, "Whatever. They can hear what I have to say. I don't give a shit."

"Anything you say can incriminate you even more." I pointed out.

"I'm already in hell. What more could they do to me? You're my only salvation." He said, sighing, "I count down the minutes until I see you again. This is my only hour of sanity."

I sat in silence for a moment or two.

"Mr. Joker?"

"Yes, Doc?"

"Do you ever take that make-up off?"

He sat up, and turned to face me, although it took him a few minutes to re-adjust himself, "Why do you ask?"

"I'm just curious."

"I haven't removed it in a very long time. Does that answer your question?"

"I suppose." I said, demurring.

He stared at me inquisitively, "I have a feeling you want to ask me something else."

"I want to see what you look like without it." I blurted out, shocked at my words.

He narrowed his eyes, "Why?"

"I don't know. I just do." I said, flustered, "Do I need an explanation for everything?"

"No, you don't. I just wondered why you'd even dream of wanting to see my face. It's not important. I've worn a mask for so long."

"Would you let me see it, if I asked you to?"

His lips curved slowly into a smile, "Only if you do one little thing for me first."

I hesitated before I asked, "And what's that?"

"I want you to kiss me."

"You know I can't."

"You know you want to."

"No, I don't." I said, but it didn't sound at all confident.

"As you said, you're curious." He licked his lips, "You can't tell me you haven't thought about it at least once."

"I haven't." I lied too quickly.

"Yes, of course. I believe you." His eyes betrayed otherwise.

"I'm not going to kiss you. That's final." I said, and stared hard down at my notebook, not wanting to show the weakness in my eyes.

"Fine, Doc, just leave me hanging then. I don't care." He shrugged, "You'll give in to me eventually. I know it."

"I won't." I said fiercely.

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart." He relaxed against the back of the chaise.

"Let's just get on with session, please." I said impatiently, and I glanced at my notes, "So what happened after you left the gang?"

"I started my own private operation, and it's been the same now for about 9 years." He said, "That about sums up my existence. I worked my way up in the underworld, starting with little jobs leading to bank robbery, domestic disturbances, homicide, mass murder…now there's pretty much nothing I won't do."

"Really? There's nothing at all?" I didn't trust that statement.

"Alright, yeah, there's one thing."

"What would that be?"

"I will not rape a woman." He said.

I raised my eyebrows. I wasn't expecting that.

"Why?"

"Because my dad would do terrible things like that to my mom. I told myself that I would never be like him. I have never consumed a sip of alcohol in my life." He said, closing his eyes, "I made a secret vow to my mom that I would never do the things to women that he did to her."

The love he felt for his mother was obvious.

"That's very noble of you." I said, "But why do everything else? Do you want attention?"

"No, not really. I do the things I do because they're fun, to put it simply." He chuckled, "I am not an attention seeker. I just like to scare people, I guess. I like providing social commentary in a way that everyone sees. You can't get people to watch you if you don't do something drastic."

"Perhaps that is true…" my voice trailed off.

"Is there anywhere in this room that they can't see us?" he asked suddenly.

"I don't know, why?"

"You're worried that they'll see us." He said, "But if there's somewhere we can hide…or I can disconnect the camera if you show me where it is."

"I…I…" I couldn't give in to temptation like this. Inside it was killing me. I had thought all night of that almost kiss.

"Fine." I said finally, but dropped my voice low, "It's above the bookcase. If you can tell me how to disconnect it, I will."

"That's my girl." He grinned, "Go."

I strode across the room to the bookcase, pulling out the step ladder, and then opening the little hidden door in the wall, revealing the camera lens, red light blinking to show that it was recording.

"Ok, reach in and feel around the back. There might be a cord." He instructed.

I did so, feeling the hard plastic of the security camera. I located a thick black cord attached to the back of it, "Found it."

"Pull it out."

I obliged, and the red light turned off.

"See, how hard was that, Doc? You're so paranoid." He rolled his eyes.

I put the ladder away, scowling at him, "I could get in so much trouble for this."

"But you did it anyway." He pointed out.

"Yes, I did." I said, realization hitting me like a bolt.

He smiled, "You're learning to break the rules."

I sat down on the couch beside him, "Do you need me to take off these restraints?"

"I'd prefer it."

I reached around his back to find the clasp, and undid it, loosening the restraints. They were looped around his arms, which took a while to undo. He stared at my hands all the while, making me feel slightly uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

After I had finished taking off the restraints, he grabbed my hands, "I just wanted to touch them. They looked so…I don't know, soft or something."

"Well, are they?" I asked.

His eyes met mine, "Yeah."

I blushed a bit, suddenly feeling warm.

My eyes searched his face, seeing up close for the first time the fading white powder spread across his forehead and cheeks; I could see faint traces of his skin underneath it. The black circles around his eyes were vanishing as well, making the jade green of the pupils stand out.

"What are you looking at?" he asked quietly.

"You." I answered plainly.

His hands went to my neck, stroking the skin tenderly, "You're so beautiful, Doc."

"Harley." I said.

"What?"

"That's my name," I said, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Oh," his eyes lit in recognition, "That's right. Harley."

For a moment, he was silent, and then he began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" I was puzzled.

"Your name. Harley Quinzel? Harley-quin? Harlequin?"

"Oh…" I giggled a bit myself, "I never noticed."

"It's kind of like we were meant to meet." He said.

"I guess." I said, smiling.

"So am I going to get that kiss I was promised?"

"Not until you take off that make-up." I said.

"What?" he snapped.

"I want to kiss you when you're not the Joker. When you are just a man." I played with his fingers, which he immediately withdrew.

"You led me on like that?"

"I didn't mean to do that. Please just do that one thing for me. If you like me as much as you say you do, you will do it for me." I embraced him, and waited for him to push me away, but he didn't, "I want to know the real you."

"You swear that you will kiss me if I do that?" he said, stroking my back.

"Yes."

"Fine." He grumbled, "You are a manipulative bitch."

"And so are you." I said fondly.


	7. Nothing Else Would Be the Same

**A/N: Long awaited chapter. Hoorahhh. I don't own the characters, DC COMICS DOES. Sorry for the short, but it suffices.**

Chapter 7: Nothing Else Would Be the Same

_Remembering, everything about my world when you came_

_Wondering, the change you'd bring_

_Means nothing else would be the same_

_Did you know, what you were doing, did you know?_

_Did you know that you would move me so well?_

"_We're So Far Away", Mae_

Going to Arkham the next day, I was speeding down the turning and swerving back-roads, wanting fervently to see what was underneath that painted mask. I kept playing different images in my head, all the while knowing that none of them would be right. I pulled into the parking lot in my designed spot, locking it automatically.

I had a beautiful car. I received it from my grandparents for high school graduation. It was a sleek crimson two-door Ferrari that I kept completely immaculate. I even parked it in a separate garage at my building for fear of other tenants stealing it.

But enough about the car.

I went through the usual process of entering the building, hurrying past all the security guards excitedly toward the examination room. My boss was waiting outside of the room, arms crossed, mouth in a straight line.

I halted. Shit. He saw the tape somehow.

"Doctor Quinzel, is t here any reason why the Joker has decided to reveal himself to you?" he asked, face unperturbed.

"I asked him to," I said matter-of-factly, "I think it would benefit him to be himself in front of me rather than this assumed persona."

"He refuses to let anyone see him, and he wants us to turn off the security cameras." My boss continued, "What do you make of that?"

I shrugged, "He doesn't want the world to see his face. He doesn't trust anyone here."

"But you, evidently." My boss raised an eyebrow.

"I suppose." I replied, not knowing how else to respond.

"Doctor Quinzel, I don't want to criticize your methods, but I find myself quite skeptical of this sudden change of heart in him. Does he love you?" he asked, point blank.

"I don't think so." I said swiftly, "I don't think he is capable of that. Perhaps he just trusts me."

"I want you to be careful." He instructed, "I will do as he requested, but please call if there's any emergency…I'm not going to be liable."

"Of course," I said, slightly impatient to get in the room, "May I proceed?"

"Yes." He said, furrowing his brow, "Why so anxious?"

"Like I'm sure you are, I'm quite curious to see what he really looks like." I replied.

"Understandable," he said, "Go ahead."

"Thanks," I entered the room, closing the door behind me. To my surprise, the lights were all off.

"Um, Mr. Joker?" I called into the darkness.

"I'm in here." He said. I couldn't locate the source of the voice.

"Are the cameras off, Harley? No one can see me except you?" he sounded nervous.

"I assure you, no one can see you." I said.

"Ok, turn the lights on, then."

I flipped the switch, and the room illuminated. I saw his figure in the corner, face turned away from me. I gingerly approached him, not wanting to frighten him.

"Can you turn around?" I asked softly.

"Are you sure you want to see me like this?"

"Of course I am. Please turn around."

He swiveled to face me, and I gasped a little; not in horror, but amazement. Despite the scars, he was extremely attractive, like I had predicted. His skin was flawless and smooth, obviously except for the harsh wounds on the sides of his mouth. His hair was a golden blonde. (I couldn't tell before because of the green dye.)

"What? What's wrong?" he looked frantically at me.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." I smiled, touching his face, "You are everything I expected and more. With a face like that, how could you hide yourself?"

He stared at me, trying to decipher any lies I might have told, but soon he relaxed into my hand, kissing my palm, "I knew you were special, Doc."

"How am I special?"

"You can see past everything."

"I couldn't when I first met you…" I admitted, "I just had to let my guard down, which wasn't exactly easy."

"Do you feel wrong about doing this?"

"No," I said, "Honestly, I don't. Not anymore."

He seemed like a completely different person without the make-up. It was like I was seeing who he had been before the Joker.

Before I could say anything else, he leaned forward and kissed me gently on the mouth. The initial sensation was odd, because I hadn't been kissed in years, plus the feeling of his scars against the corners of my lips. I eased into the kiss, completely drawn into the moment. He kissed me like it was the last one he would ever have, absorbed and hungry for me.

I knew in my heart and he would never tell me everything about him, but I didn't care. For the first time in my life, I was doing something without over-analyzing it. I was being impulsive, and somehow the world seemed brighter.

As I pulled away, I touched my tingling lips, "My God, that was…"

"Amazing?" he filled in.

"I was going to say interesting, but your word was much better." I giggled.

…wait, I just giggled?

"Harley," he grasped my hands, kissing my fingers, "I have to be with you. You need to get me out of here so we can do that. We will never have a real relationship if I stay here."

"I can't let you escape." I said, shaking my head, "They'll know it was me. I would get fired."

His grip tightened, and I cringed a little from the pain. He leaned in close to me, "Don't you want to be with me?"

"Of course I do!" I exclaimed, "But not at the price of losing everything!"

He released me, "I thought you were different. I thought you wanted freedom."

"I do want freedom…but I can't you escape. It's against every rule in the book and – "

"Rules?" he stalked away from me, "Fuck you and your rules! That's all you do, Harley, you conform to what society wants from you! Why don't you break out for once? Do something you've always dreamed of?"

"Because I…" I couldn't come up with a reason, "I…"

He grabbed me, green eyes sparking like a lit fire, "Then why not? Why not come away with me? We'll live the life you desire. I'll do anything to make you happy."

"I wish I could get you out without having to do anything illegal." I said softly.

"You disappoint me." He rested his chin on the top of my head (which was easy for him considering his 8 inches of height on me), "I thought you'd say yes."

"To what?"

"Coming away with me." He replied, "I thought women were into that whole romantic getaway thing."

"It would be wonderful, but I have too much here to just…leave like that." I embraced him, "I'm so sorry."

He was stiff in my arms, and I felt a sudden twinge in my heart. He was angry with me. I couldn't give in to him, though, when it was so against everything I stood for. I couldn't just pick up and leave like he was suggesting. I had a life here; a job, my family.

A job that I wasn't in love with.

And a family that constantly told me that I was a disappointment.

I looked up at him, chin firm, "We're breaking you free."


	8. Go With Your Instincts

**A/N: i need to write longer chapters, sorry...I don't own anything I reference, whatevssss. **

Chapter 8: Go With Your Instincts

_Make your decision and don't you dare think twice_

_Go with your instincts along with some bad advice_

_That didn't turn out the way I thought it would it all_

_You blame me but some of this is still your fault_

"_Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet?", Relient K_

Why did I make that promise to him? How could I lead him on like this? How was I even going to go through with this?

The thoughts were running wildly through my head as I pulled up to Arkham at 2 o'clock in the morning. The lights were all off, and it looked positively spooky in the dim light of the moon. It had been an old castle before its current usage, and it had so many odd passageways, many I wasn't aware of.

As I fumbled with the keys in the front pocket of my coat, I was somewhat frantic. They still had guards at night; I couldn't let them see me. I had no excuse as to why I would be there at this late hour, so basically…I was fucked if I was found.

I slowly and carefully turned the key into the lock of the back door. You know how when you are trying to do something very quietly and it just ends up sounding like the combination of Metallica and 40 blasts of fireworks at once? Yes, well, that is pretty much how it sounded right now.

I pushed the door open, cringing as it creaked slightly.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness of the hallway. I saw a dim light at the end, signifying the main hall of the asylum. I went towards it, cautiously, on guard for any sudden movements.

When I finally reached the main hallway, I peered around the door. All was clear for right now. The guards must have been on a coffee break.

I tip-toed past the cells, hoping fervently not to wake any of the inmates up, because they were quite unstable and would definitely shout and scream if they saw me. It wouldn't matter if they liked me or disliked me, they were disturbed and you could never tell what they would do.

I found his cell, peering inside. His eyes glowed green back at me in the shadows, and my heart raced faster, frightened. I put a finger to my lips, and gestured for him to come to the door. He obeyed, silent and swift.

I hurriedly located the key on my ring, opening the door. He walked out, smiling at me. He opened his mouth to say something, and I shook my head.

'No, no,' I mouthed.

He gave me a curious look, and I ignored it. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him along the back passageway again, halting as I heard voices.

"Why is this cell door open?" Ray asked.

"I have no idea. He must have gotten out somehow." John swore under his breath.

"Set the alarms!" Ray commanded. It sounded as if he was running down the main floor.

"Shit, the alarms will lock the doors!" I whispered harshly.

I ran down the hallway, the Joker following close behind. I shoved the door to the parking lot open; the alarms sounded and I nearly jumped a foot in the air.

"No time to freak out!" he called, running to my car.

"I know, I know, I can't help it!" I was almost in tears, torn at what I had done.

"No time for crying, either!" he shouted, frustrated.

I jumped in the front seat of the car, and ignited the engine, speeding away from Arkham with a long, resounding squeal of the tires hitting the pavement.

As we got farther from the asylum, I still was breathing heavily, hands gripped to the steering wheel as if they were glued to it.

"Harley," he said.

"What?" I snapped.

His eyes widened, "Are you ok? You seem kind of tense."

"Of course I'm fucking tense, you idiot! I just broke you out of prison!" I exclaimed, "I am going to get arrested, put in jail, and die rotting in a cell, so we will end up just like you were before and I was such a normal girl before I met you and now I'm this impulsive moron!"

"You're not a moron." He said calmly.

"Yes, I am. Stop trying to convince me that I'm not!" I fumed.

He fell silent then.

I breathed deeply a few times, slowly relaxing.

"Ok…so, where are we going to go?" I asked, "It's not like we can just hide out at my apartment. It's the first place they'll look."

"Don't worry, I've got plenty of options." He held out his hand, "I need your cell."

"Can't they trace the cell number?"

"No. Just trust me, Harley." He said shortly.

I reluctantly handed it to him. He dialed 10 numbers or so, and then a few more. I kept driving, quickly glancing at him as he waited for someone to answer.

I heard a voice on the other line, and he started to speak…in Portuguese.

I looked at him incredulously as he conversed with the man for a few minutes, and then hung up, returning the phone to me.

"Where the hell did you learn to speak Portuguese?"

He shrugged, "I don't know. I just picked it up. I speak a bit of French, Spanish, and Russian, too. When you're a prominent con man like myself, you have to deal with all kinds of people. Many of these mob leaders are foreign; it just comes with the territory."

"I see." I said simply.

"Right, now we're going to have turn at the next few roads." He instructed, "One of my accomplices has an abandoned warehouse where we can stay for the night. It's off the beaten track, so the cops aren't going to find us. Not easily, at least."

"Oh, I'm really reassured right now." I didn't bother to conceal my sarcasm.

"Harley, we're in this together. We can't exactly go back." He pointed out.

"I know, God damn it!" I was still a little shell-shocked from the experience.

I had never imagined myself doing something so unbelievably heinous. I was breaking a dangerous man from prison, and throwing myself into the lions' den, so to speak. What if we were caught? No, I couldn't think about that now. I had to be positive, or else I'd never get through this. Oddly enough, I didn't regret what I had just done.

The crazy things you do for people you care about.

…

About another half hour later, we pulled up to a dilapidated warehouse on the side of the road. The Joker's accomplice was right; no one would have thought to come down here at all. The place was clearly abandoned. I grew nervous as we stepped out of the car and approached it.

"What about my car?" I inquired.

Like a Ferrari didn't stick out in the slightest.

"Oh, give it a rest, please." He was frustrated, "I told you, no one is going to find us. Will you have a little faith in me?"

"Fine," I sulked as I followed him into the warehouse.

Inside was pretty much as bad as I had pictured. Everything was broken and charred; evidently there had been a fire that struck the place.

"Where are we going to sleep?" I frowned.

He pointed to a pile of blankets in the corner.

"Oh, that's fantastic." I groaned, almost on the verge of tears again.

He swiveled to face me. He still looked terrifying without the make-up when he was angry; his eyes flashed, like a cat's in the dark, and he grabbed me roughly by the shoulders.

"Well, I'm sorry, Princess, but I can't give you everything you want. I'm sorry that you can't sleep in your penthouse apartment with your fancy paintings and your satin sheets and all that other shit. You're just going to have to deal with what we've been given." He said in a low, venomous voice, "Now, are you going to shut up and stop complaining?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Good," he said harshly, and released me. He walked over to the pile of blankets, trying to arrange them in the most comfortably way possible.

I stood there, surveying the scene. Suddenly I felt myself go weak, the room blurring through my tears, and then fell to my knees, crying into my hands.

The gravity of what I had just done had finally hit me. I was living with a man who could love me or kill me, and I had no way of escape.

"Harley…" I heard his voice say.

I couldn't look at him; I just kept crying hysterically.

"Harley!" he forced my face up to meet his eyes, "It's too late for this."

I choked on my sobs, "I don't care. I hate myself."

His eyes softened, and he pulled me into his arms without much struggle, "You shouldn't hate yourself. I am forever grateful to you for this. I don't like seeing you like this…so broken. I didn't think it was possible."

"I hide this part." I sniffled.

"Come on," he said, "You're probably exhausted. Let's go to sleep."

He led me to the pile of fabric that he seemed to think was a bed, and laid me down on it, "Now sleep, alright?"

"Hmph," I mumbled.

But he was right. I was quite tired, and even though the situation, surroundings and bedding was uncomfortable, I still fell asleep relatively quickly, and barely thought about what was coming next.


	9. As If You Have a Choice

**A/N: Sorry to keep you waiting. College life brings many hours of homework and fanfiction had to fall to the wayside for a bit.  
The next few chapters will be great, I promise! This is the calm before the storm. I'm thrilled for it. R&R KTHX.**

Chapter 9: As If You Have a Choice

_Light up, light up as if you have a choice_

_Even if you cannot hear your voice_

_I'll be right beside you, dear_

_Louder, louder and we'll run for our lives_

_I can hardly speak and I understand._

"_Run," Snow Patrol_

"Up," he was shaking me rather roughly.

"Could have been a little nicer about that," I grumbled, stretching my aching arms.

My back was stiff and neck was sore and I altogether just kind of felt like shit.

"One of my colleagues informed me of our next venture. We have to get out of here before the cops decide to pass by." He pulled me to my feet.

My blood ran cold with fear, "How did they find out we were here?"

"Well, they're searching the surrounding area. And they seem to be doing a quite thorough job of it because they're about 2 miles away."

"2 MILES?!" I nearly shrieked, "Then why the hell aren't we running out of here?"

"You're the one arguing with me!" he called behind me as I took off for the car.

"You knew they were that close and kept it to yourself?" I jumped into the driver's seat, igniting the engine.

"You kept talking! What was I supposed to do?" he shouted over the engine.

We sped away from the scene as quickly as we had come, thankfully not hearing any sound of a siren yet behind us.

As soon as we had put a safe distance between us and the hell-hole, I asked, "Now what?"

"We need to go to Gotham."

"Gotham City?"

"Is there any other?" he frowned.

"Well…it's just…isn't that a bit obvious?" I fumbled with my words, shaking, very close to getting into a screaming match with the man.

"Of course it is. It's where I operate, though, and I need to get back there. We have a big job ahead of us, my dear." He grinned, "Plus, I would also like to re-apply my face paint. I feel rather naked without it."

"I think your face is fine the way it is." I said softly.

"But they know me as I am. As the Joker." He said, almost bitterly.

I reached for his hand, sensing his tension. I grasped it and stroked his fingers, "You don't have to be the Joker, you know. We could just get away from here, move to Italy or something, change our names…they'll never know."

"I don't run from a challenge." He said stubbornly.

"Oh, and what challenge is that?" I asked shortly, taking my hand out of his.

"I have to kill the Batman."

"Why? Why do you have to kill him? I don't understand." I said impatiently, "The man does nothing but good for the city."

"That's what you all seem to think. Good ol' Batman, he'll clean up crime. He'll do our job for us. The police need to get off their asses and do something for a change." His voice rose with anger.

"But Harvey Dent-"

"Harvey Dent is dead, damn it!" he exclaimed, "Get it in your damn little obstinate head! You can't look past what you believe, Harley. You just want to believe you can change the world by being 'good'. Well, you can't. Learn that right now. You can't. I haven't been committing all these crimes for fun. I'm trying to show people that there are things beyond what they see, that people aren't what they seem to be."

I listened to him, silent and fuming.

He continued, "And your previous Harvey Dent wasn't perfect, either. I broke him out of that hospital, and he went on a homicidal rampage, trying to find the person responsible for the death of his beloved Rachel or whatever her name was."

"It was you." I said grimly, "Wasn't it?"

"Oh, I was certainly part of it." He settled back against the seats, "But there were many others involved. He let a few live, but some weren't so lucky."

"I can't picture him exercising revenge like that." I shook my head.

"He wanted the people of Gotham to see him as their savior. The only one perfect amidst a mass of corruption. People are fickle, Harley; that's one lesson you've got to learn to survive in this world. Most are easily led astray, but there happen to be a few loose cannons like me and you who balance out the stupidity."

"I'm not exactly a loose cannon." I rolled my eyes, "I can't imagine where you got that impression of me."

"Considering your actions as of late, you're blossoming nicely."

"I don't like to be reminded that I've been proven wrong, thank you." I said crossly.

"Don't start being a stubborn bitch now." He said good-naturedly, as if my irate attitude didn't bother him in the slightest, "I'll take care of you. Don't worry about that."

I fell silent, contemplating.

He peered over at me, "Come on, Harley, don't you trust me?"

"I don't think I should, but I do." I said softly.

"That's good enough for me." He said, evidently satisfied with my response.

"Now where are we going? You never specified." I said, looking straight at the long, winding road in front of us.

"I told you, Gotham." He said, resting his feet on my dashboard.

"Where in Gotham?"

"Wherever I tell you to go. I'll let you know when we get there." He closed his eyes, "I'm going to take a nap, alright? I'm fucking exhausted."

"Oh, thanks, ass, you make me drive all the way back and you just rest easy." I shoved his shoulder playfully, "Fine, fine, whatever."

"I didn't think you'd mind." He opened one eye, grinning cockily at me.

My heart melted a little at the smile. I felt like such a damn sucker, giving in to his demands so easily. I just couldn't deny the feelings I had for him. Seeing him so clean and so…well, almost normal was an unexpected and wonderful change. I had seen him at all facets of life, all of his range of emotion, but this was the one I valued the most. To see him so at ease made me feel warmth throughout my body. Right now, this moment was perfect.

But I knew deep down it wouldn't be perfect for long.

…

We pulled into the city limits of Gotham, about an hour from our previous location. Gotham was a dirty city; I didn't prefer to be on the 'bad side of town'. I lived on the upper class side, and I was half-tempted to go to my apartment. How was I going to survive without all my clothing, my hair products, all my feminine objects? I suppose that was a little spoiled rich girl of me, but I was comfortable in my life, and changing was foreign to me.

The Joker had woken a few minutes before we entered Gotham, directing me to our destination. I grew more and more anxious as we drove down the side streets. I saw the bums eyeing my car with a mix of admiration and jealousy.

"Turn right here," he pointed out.

We stopped at a seemingly-abandoned warehouse. It was quite large, and looked like it had probably been a factory at some point in its existence. We got out of my car, and I surveyed the building, hands on my hips in a very juvenile fashion.

"I am not leaving my car here." I said matter-of-factly.

"Why not?"

I sputtered with disbelief, "Why not?" I turned around, making an apostrophe to the sky, "Why not, he asks?!"

I swiveled back on him, pointing my finger right in his face, "That is a limited edition Ferrari convertible. It cost my parents a whole shitload of money, and I am not letting bums vandalize it! If you expect me to walk away without a care in the world, oh, oh, you are dead wrong, mister!"

I stood by my car protectively.

He just stared at me, "Seriously, Harley, leave the damn car. It's not important."

I opened my mouth to protest, and he cut me off, "Is this car more important than your life?"

I frowned, and grumbled, "No."

"Good, at least I know you have your priorities in order." He beckoned me with his finger, "Now come over here."

I hesitantly obeyed his order, walking back to his side.

"Alright," he put his arm around my shoulder, a rather surprising gesture. He hadn't tried any of that romantic stuff since we had left Arkham. I was starting to think I was living some kind of pipe dream in that department.

He opened the door to the warehouse, and took me inside. It was slightly more impressive as far as the interior went; there was a large, open space filled with working machines, levers and all kinds of gadgets that I couldn't even conceive the reason for.

"This is my baby." He said proudly, "This is where I do all my business. Make my gunpowder, dynamite; concoct all my plans…ah yes, home."

"You live here?" I asked incredulously.

"Oh, definitely not," he wrinkled his nose, "Who'd want to live here? I will show you my lodgings later. You will be staying with me, of course."

"Well, of course," I rolled my eyes, "Like you'd put me on the street."

"Ok, missy, the sarcastic attitude needs to stop." He said curtly, "We have a lot to accomplish."

"Like what?" I inquired.

"Well, I have a costume. You'll need one as well. I hope you can sew." He led me over to a table with a bunch of fabrics thrown on it. I noticed a few that very closely resembled his suit, vest, and his other articles of clothing.

"I make everything myself." He said, "But clearly I am not my fashionable self."

"The orange suits you well." I snorted back a laugh.

"Oh we have a comedian in there, too." He tweaked my nose, "You won't find it so funny later."

"You always have to ruin my moment." I sulked a bit, "And why can't you make my costume if you're so damn proud at making your own?"

"I'd like to see you suffer and do some real manual labor for once." He replied, not even bothering to hide his smirk.

"Thanks a lot." I said, giving him a simpering glare.

"You're welcome."

"You're a cheeky bastard."

"Look who's talking."

"Oh, just go away. I need to work on this costume, or whatever." I shooed him away, "Go put your make-up on; I know you're feeling uncomfortable without it."

As I leaned over the table, surveying my options, I felt his arms around my waist. He whispered in my ear, "Not around you, I don't. Just remember that."

I felt an involuntary tingle from his words. I turned to say something, but he had already disappeared from sight. I wondered vaguely how he could be so quick. I guess it is just part of his general persona.

I selected a red and black pattern for my outfit, going with the jester look, like he had suggested of my name. Harley Quinn. It had a rather interesting ring to it.

You know, this could end up being a bit fun, to tell you the truth.

...


	10. Sharpest Lives are the Deadliest to Lead

**A/N: Harley is really beginning to lose it. Heh. I think this chapter demonstrates it further. I don't own these characters, DC Comics does.**

Chapter 10: The Sharpest Lives are the Deadliest to Lead

_Give me a shot to remember_

_And you can take all the pain away from me_

_A kiss and I will surrender_

_The sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead_

_A light to burn all the empires_

_So bright the sun is ashamed to rise and be_

_In love with all of these vampires_

_So you can leave like the sane abandoned me_

"_The Sharpest Lives", My Chemical Romance_

"How do I look?" I twirled about in a model-like fashion, waiting for his reaction.

We were in his private apartment, separated from the warehouse; it was a small building attached to the top. I had to take an elevator that was hidden near the back of the warehouse; none of his accomplices knew about it. He kept it secret to everyone but me, considering I basically lived there, too.

I had made the red and black fabric into a form-fitting jumpsuit, complete with a detachable hood that was shaped to be like a jester's hat. I didn't add any bells or adornments, because, well…that might be taking the analogy a little too far.

"You look fantastic." He nodded in approval, "How will any of the people be able to keep their eyes off you?"

"That could be used to our advantage." I pointed out.

He grinned crookedly, "Is it really you in there? The person I met a few weeks ago wouldn't be caught dead saying these things."

I removed the hood, raking my hands through my hair in front of the mirror, "I guess you could say that I had to change to fit my circumstances."

"Fair enough," he shrugged. He kissed my forehead, "We need to get moving."

I furrowed my brow, "Where? What are we doing?"

"You'll see when we get there." He replied nonchalantly.

He started the leave the room, heading toward the elevator. I followed like a puppy at his heels, "Um, hey! I don't like the sound of this at all. Why won't you tell me?"

"Because you're not going to approve." He stepped into the elevator, pulling me inside with him.

"Well, that clears things up nicely." I smoothed my costume, trying to rid it of any wrinkles, "Want to elaborate on that, genius?"

He just gave me a look and said, "No, not particularly."

"Is what we're doing illegal?"

"Like that is really going to bother you now." He snorted, stepping out of the elevator as the doors opened to reveal the darkness of the room where it was located, "Huh. I really need to invest in some lighting in here."

"That's not the point." I protested, exasperated at his lack of attention, "Is it illegal or not?"

"Nothing I do is ever legal, Harley." He strode through the main floor of the warehouse, me behind him, struggling to catch up with his long strides.

"Well, you can't just expect me to obey your every command without knowing some details first!"

"You're doing it right now." he snapped his fingers for one of his henchmen, who appeared quickly by his side, "Go get the car."

(He at least had taken care of my Ferrari.)

The henchman nodded, and exited as soon as he had come.

"You're completely avoiding the question!" I exclaimed as the man pulled the car around the front of the building. The Joker got into the driver's seat, and I halted, "Oh no, no, no. You will not be driving my car."

"Yes, yes, I will. Get in." he patted the seat next to him.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "I will get in, but I am definitely not going to like it."

I was quite protective of that car; no one else had ever driven it but me, so it felt very odd to be sitting in the passenger's seat. I didn't exactly trust his driving skills, either.

We started to drive, and I peered out the window for a familiar sight, but none occurred, "Where the hell are we going?"

"I told you. You will see." He said calmly.

"I don't like being left out of information." I folded my arms across my chest, sulking like a child.

He glanced over at me, "Don't give me that pout, missy. You've done nothing but complain since I brought you here." He imitated me in an obscenely high, girlish voice, "What? I can't have my own bed? Where am I going to take a shower? I have to wear _that_?"

"Shut up," I had to giggle a little at that, "I seriously do not sound like that."

"That's what you think."

"Oh, fuck you." I muttered.

"You wish." He retorted.

"Yeah, right, ok." I let out a short bark of laughter.

"Oh, you know you want me. You're just in a state of denial because you're stuck in a place where you don't want to go." He stared out the front window, face dead-pan.

I didn't want to admit to the truth, so I avoided the subject, "I'll give you this, Joker; you could make one hell of a psychologist."

"Nah, I can just read people easily." He smiled, "I'm naturally inclined to it. I have had a lot of life experience to back it up."

I shrugged, "Well, whatever you attribute to it, you're very good at it."

"Then you are saying that my diagnosis is correct?"

"No," I said obstinately.

"Fine, suit yourself." He had one of those pensive looks on his face, and I knew he didn't believe me in the slightest. He looked around the area in which we were driving, and said, "Alright, so here's the deal. All the mob bosses are out of jail, and they're basically screaming for the Batman's blood. That's where I come in."

"Alright…so…where does that leave me?" I was puzzled.

"Men love two things, Harley: women and money. I thought I might as well give them both to sweeten the deal." He said simply.

"Oh, so I'm just a piece of ass?" I snapped.

"Well, as a matter of fact, yes."

At least he didn't bother to sugar-coat anything.

"Great, fantastic," I grumbled.

"Now, no making your little snide comments during this meeting. I need to come off as a credible villain, got it?"

"What snide comments?"

"No offense, but you come off as a sarcastic bitch at times."

"None taken," I rolled my eyes, "I will do my best not to make you look like a fuck-head."

"Um…" he pulled into an abandoned lot off the side of the road, "I'm not sure that is a specific promise."

"That's the point. I said I would do my best, but I'm not guaranteeing that my best is the best I can do, hmm?" I clearly enjoyed the mind games I played with him.

"Whatever, please don't just be a sarcastic bitch." He said dismissively, pressing the automatic locks on the car with a resounding 'beep' across the empty lot.

I trailed him, as usual, and we went inside this seemingly useless building on the 'bad side' of Gotham City. Although, now that I mention it, there really wasn't a 'good side.'

We came to a conference room in the basement of the building, and I peered inside the small windows on the steel doors.

"Tell me what you see." He instructed.

"I see a bunch of greasy men with bad hair and cheap suits." I observed.

"Yeah, that's the mob."

"These guys don't look like the Godfather type." I ducked as one glanced toward me.

"They normally don't." he said, "Welcome to the real world."

"Oh shut up, I'm just trying to make a joke." I hissed.

"Just let me do all the talking, alright?" he said in a low voice, "You'll fuck it up."

"Thanks for the confidence."

"There you go again with the attitude."

"God damn it, are we going in there or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm getting to it." He kicked the door open, strutting inside as if he owned the place, "Evening, gentlemen."

"Aw, not you again," one of the men groaned.

"Who invited the clown back?"

"All he brought us was trouble!"

"Where's the dead Batman, Joker?"

Their angry voices all meshed together, arguing while the Joker stood there, completely calm during the whole tirade.

"Alright, now that we've got those sentiments off our chests, I'd like propose another plan to you fine individuals." He stood at the front of the table, and gestured for me to come in.

A few of the men whistled and cat-called, and I glared at them. I noticed his hands grow tense, his knuckles white in silent fury, but he moved on, "Ok, get it out, get it out. This is my lovely assistant, Harley Quinn."

"Oh, so you've got yourself a girlfriend, then, clown?" one of the Italians jeered.

"Not exactly." I replied.

"Opinions to yourself, Harley." He whispered harshly.

I stood there, arms crossed, and listened to him make his speech, "So, my first plan didn't work. I can admit to my mistakes, but apparently, you can't. I've had a lot of time to think, and I've come up with something bigger and better."

I stared at him, thinking, 'Oh really?'

He chose to ignore my dubious gaze, focused on the mobsters, "I wasn't trying before. Now I've hit him where it hurts. I can break him down. I can crack into his brain, demoralize him."

"How are you going to do that?" a man asked.

"That's up to me." He said vaguely.

"I don't like that you're not telling us anything." one of them stood up, "Most importantly, what do you want in return?"

"Well, how much you got?"

"50 million dollars," the man replied.

"I'll take 10 of that." He decided.

"Ten?!" a few almost gasped.

"I could ask for more." The Joker shrugged.

"Fine, clown, we'll give ten million for Batman dead. Not alive, dead. We gave you one chance already, and this is the last you're gonna get." The man who was speaking seemed like the leader of one of the gangs; he was rather tall and intimidating, olive-skinned and looked a little less slimy than the rest.

"Understandably so," he put his hands up in defense, "You men are my customers. At least you're a little more obliging than the first ones I had to deal with."

"I still don't trust you, but we have no other choice right now." The leader said, "The name is Ristoni, if you ever need anything."

"Wait, wait," another guy interrupted, "We are really just going to let this guy walk away with a fifth of our hard-earned cash?"

"I could hardly call your money hard-earned." I said under my breath.

He glared at me, "What are you mumbling about, bitch?"

"There's no need to talk to the lady like that." Ristoni said sharply, "Sit down, Martin, you're making yourself look like an ass."

Martin obliged reluctantly.

The Joker stepped around me, and over to Martin, "You ever speak to her like that again, I will blow your god damn head off, got it? I have people everywhere; nowhere is safe for you."

Martin's hand went to his pocket, and pulled out his pistol, "Are you threatening me?"

"I'm not offering you flowers and candy."

Martin put a gun to the Joker's head, and suddenly a shot rang out from across the room.

Martin dropped to the floor, a bullet lodged in his frontal lobe, bleeding profusely out of the back of his head.

Everyone looked around to see the origin of the shot, and then suddenly I realized…

It had been me.


	11. A Beautiful Disaster

**A/N: This is my favorite chapter so far. A little backstory on this...I tend to get inspiration from really random moments. At my college, it rains a whole hell of a lot for some reason, and I was walking through the quad in the rain and saw the beauty it had, like dripping from the trees. I don't know, it was just like a lightning bolt. And this chapter came about like 2 minutes afterward. Enjoy.**

Chapter 11: A Beautiful Disaster

_He's magic and myth_

_As strong as what I believe_

_A tragedy with_

_More damage than a soul should see_

_But do I try to change him_

_It's so hard not to blame him…_

_And if I could hold on_

_Through the tears and the laughter_

_Would it be beautiful?_

_Or just a beautiful disaster?_

"_Beautiful Disaster," Kelly Clarkson_

I watched the rain fall, crying for me, crying for the crime I had committed.

I felt empty.

I took a man's life and with that, took my own humanity.

The rain looked like merciless drops of blood, blurring together through my eyes. The sharp drops thudded angrily at my umbrella as if they were trying to rip it apart at the seams. Trying to reach me, to punish me, to show me that they knew what I had done.

I saw myself in the glass of the building, in my costume, the red and black jester alone in her world of sadness. How ironic. My hat, attached to the costume, was pulled down, revealing my mass of straight blonde hair, mussed from the polyester fabric of the hood.

I halted. I saw myself as I was. Who I was now.

The unforgiving rain pelted me even harder, asking,

Who are you?

Are you Harleen Quinzel?

…or are you Harley Quinn?

Each drop hit me.

Choose, choose, choose.

And the pathetic part about it was that I couldn't.

…

Then I saw him coming toward me, my beautiful disaster of a lover, face twisted into his trademark grin. How could I deny what I had become?

"You did great in there." He said.

He clearly didn't care that the rain was falling on him in droves, drenching his clothes and causing his face make-up to run, "I was getting nervous for a minute. I thought you were going to take off on me."

I continued to stare at my reflection, unaffected by his words.

"Harley?" he moved closer to me, "Earth to Harley? What's the matter with you?"

"Oh, whatever could be the matter?" My voice was strangled, fervently trying to hide my tears, "Nothing is the matter."

"I really doubt it's nothing." He grabbed me, pulling me into his embrace. I flinched at the cold, soaking fabric of his suit, but dropped my umbrella onto the sidewalk, letting the rain finally hit me for all it was worth.

"Tell me." He demanded.

"I'm becoming you." I began to cry, hoping he couldn't tell because of the rain.

"You act like it's a bad thing." He said, smirking a little.

"God damn it, like I want to become a criminal!" I exclaimed, shoving him away, "You made me kill a man today! I hate being this! I'm like your god damn puppet that you jerk around for fun and then throw away when you're bored with it! I hate being what you want me to be and losing myself in the process!"

"Harley…"

"No!" I turned away, "Just leave me alone. Just fucking go. I'll see you back at the warehouse. I need some time to think."

I ran, leaving him standing there. The last thing I saw was his face, cleansed from the rain, staring after me. And I swore I could see his own tears.

…


	12. Crash Into My Arms

**A/N: Sorry to keep you waiting so long. I was trying to develop some background story and study for 5 exams and write a speech at the same time.  
It wasn't working so well.  
So here it is. Hope it's been worth the wait!  
I don't own the DC characters Harley Quinn and Joker, Batman, etc.**

Chapter 12: Crash into My Arms

_Oh, you look so tired_

_Your mouth is slack and wide_

_You're ill-housed and you're ill-advised_

_I bet your face is mean as your life has been…_

_Crash into my arms_

_I want you_

_You don't agree but you don't refuse_

"_Jack the Ripper," Morrissey_

I don't know how long I wondered the streets of Gotham by myself.

I couldn't handle this. This wasn't me.

But I have never felt as alive as I do when I'm with him. It was a thrill ride. It was like someone had taken away all my inhibitions. It felt so wonderful and so terrible at the same time.

Had he really cried for me?

Had he really shown emotion?

If he had, this was a huge break-through. It meant that I was getting to him. Wasn't that my job?

Ha. My job description hadn't exactly called for homicide and falling in love with your mentally unstable patient who dresses up like a clown to terrorize an entire city and fights with a man who dresses up as a bat to save the same city that is being terrorized.

Right.

I didn't know much about this Batman person, but clearly he had the Joker fixed. I wanted to know why. My damn inquisitive mind never seems to cease.

Who could the Batman be? I'm sure it was the question on a lot of Gotham City dwellers' minds. Was he one of us?

What did it matter to me? He had never done anything to help me.

I was entangled on the bad side of the tracks now, and I either had to accept defeat or disappear from Gotham forever.

I could be caught.

But I'd still have him.

And that meant more to me than my freedom…

Which is fucking warped, I have to confess.

…

I finally made it back to the warehouse, noticing that my car was back in its usual spot in the back-lot. He was pacing around in the vestibule by the main doors, and when he saw me, he pulled me into his arms, "Don't ever do that again."

"Why didn't you chase after me?"

"You said to leave you alone."

"True," I admitted.

"Are you alright?" he asked, "No one try to rape you or anything?"

"No, I'm unharmed." I said, "I just had to think for a little while."

He led me to the elevator, "What were you thinking about?"

"How I have lost who I am." I said grimly, staring up at the decaying ceiling in the elevator.

"You're more you than you've ever been." He said softly, "Trust me."

I stared at him, "Do you really think so?"

"Yes."

I fell silent at that.

The elevator made a 'ding' as it hit the top floor. We entered his private suite, and I collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to remove my outfit.

He went to the mirror, and ran the water, washing off his make-up as he spoke, "You're pensive yet again, my dear."

"Yeah, I'm just trying to process the fact that I killed a man." I closed my eyes.

"It's rough the first time around." He said, "You get used to it."

"How do you ever get used to it?" I sat up.

"I don't know…you just do. You start learning to keep your emotions locked away."

"But that's not exactly healthy."

"Of course, coming from the psychologist." He rolled his eyes, but he said it in a fond way.

After he had finished removing the face paint, he sat on the bed at my feet, "Harley, I would understand if you want to leave now."

"No, I don't. I'm in too deep now." I sighed.

"That's the spirit." He grinned.

I had almost forgotten how absolutely human he looked without his insane exterior.

I leaned back against the pillows, exhaling deeply. He lay down next to me, taking me into his arms without a word.

As soon as he did that, I broke out into sobs again.

"What's wrong?" he asked, puzzled.

"I don't know!" I bawled, burying my face in his chest.

He cradled me silently, letting me cry. Once I had finished, he lifted my face to meet his eyes, "Harley, there's something on your mind."

"Other than the fact that I killed someone tonight?" I said bitterly.

"Yes," he replied.

"My parents would be so disappointed in me."

"Why do you care what they think?"

"I wish I knew." I sighed, "I owe them so much, and I don't want them to know what I've become now."

"There's nothing wrong with you."

"I wish I could say that was true." I said wistfully, "I'm pretty fucked up. I just don't like to show it much."

"How are you fucked up? I'm curious, considering the fact that you grew up with everything in the world." He said, a hint of venom in his tone.

"Oh, don't start with that shit." I snapped, "I know what you think. Oh, little spoiled rich girl. What does she have to complain about? You don't know what the hell I've been through."

"I'd like to know." He said softly.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You brought it up."

"I'm serious. I don't want to talk about it." I said obstinately.

"Will you tell me eventually?"

I pondered this, "Maybe."

"That is almost satisfying."

"How can you joke at a time like this?" I shoved him playfully.

"You are going to be just fine." He smiled.

"You think so?"

He answered me by kissing me swiftly. I was rendered into shock for a moment, not anticipating this sudden burst of affection. His kiss deepened by the minute, and I couldn't pull myself away. We clung to each other, desperately locked in that kiss, as if it would be the last one we'd ever take.

When we finally pulled away, I whispered, "Do you really want to know about my life?"

He twirled a lock of my hair around his finger, "If you want to tell me."

I took a deep breath, "To begin, I hate my father."

"Why?"

"When I was 6, my mother developed ovarian cancer. It destroyed my father. To think that she might die was too much for him. He completely shut down; almost lost his job at the hospital because of it. He is deeply in love with my mother, you see. I was so young at the time…I didn't understand what was going on; why my mother lost all her hair, why she had to keep leaving me and my sister, who was only a little over a year old at the time. When I asked him, he just me that Mommy was very sick and she might have to go to Heaven to see Jesus." I snorted, "Like I was supposed to comprehend that?

"I wanted so badly to believe in my father." I continued, "You're supposed to believe that he's always there to protect you and watch over you. But he couldn't. He failed. I had to be a mother when I was only in first grade, because my father couldn't step up in a crisis. That's when I knew I could never count on him for anything. That memory stayed with me up until my adult years, when I finally almost forgave him. I suppose at 6, you can't really comprehend a situation of that magnitude. That's why I chose to become a psychiatrist, to stop things like that…" My voice broke a little, "…from ever happening to a family like that again."

"Did your mother recover?"

"Yeah, she's been in remission for 19 years. Almost 20, I think, in fact. She braved it; she was not going to let it kill her. That's why I have always listened to my mother over my father. She can handle anything that is thrown at her. She's been through a whole hell of a lot. She was the first in her family to marry someone not Greek. Her family almost disowned her. Thankfully, they didn't, but they alienated her for a while, at least until I was born. Then I think they figured that would be a good time to get back into her life. Can you imagine? Your parents not speaking to you for 5 years because you married someone not in your culture? It's fucking ridiculous, that's what it is."

"My mother hasn't spoken to me in 18 years." He said quietly.

"Well, that was a completely different situation. Your father was an ass-hole. My dad may be a coward, but he's not an ass-hole. He still provided for us and kept a roof over our heads. I still have a rather odd relationship with him. Sometimes I don't feel that kind of parental bond you're supposed to have. I just don't. That's one of the issues that I had to work out when I grew up. That and the fact that I am insanely jealous of my younger sister."

"What does she have that you don't?"

"Oh, better looks, better social skills, better athletic skills, better height and weight, better grades, better everything." I sighed, "She's really a sweet girl and I couldn't ask for a better sister – oh well, there's another thing that she's good at – whatever, that problem was always deep-rooted but I came to terms with it a long time ago.

"College was my chance to change myself. I became the person I wanted to be. I just never will be better in my parents' minds. My sister was the golden child. She was kind of a miracle, I guess. They were told they couldn't have any more children after me, because my mom had ovarian cysts, which eventually caused her cancer. Then my sister came about; she was born 2 months premature and incubated for a while, but she came out perfect after that. They look at her as if she's God's gift or something, and I'm just kind of there."

"I doubt that they think that." He stroked my hair.

"I don't really care if they do." I shrugged, "As I said, I'm ok with it."

"Did you ever tell your sister?"

"No. I don't think it's necessary. She'd just deny it, anyway."

"Maybe you should, just so she knows and understands."

"How can I tell her now, considering you're keeping me hostage?" I asked curtly.

"You are not a hostage."

"How do you figure that?" I was puzzled.

"Because I'd let you go if you asked me to."

I stared up at him; his eyes were sincere, "Really?"

"Yeah," he frowned, "I'm not a complete monster."

"Just an incomplete one." I smiled.

"I guess you could call it that." He returned the smile half-heartedly.

...


	13. Everything That You Wanted, Princess

**A/N: Sorry to keep you waiting. It is a little short, but the next chapter will be much longer and more exciting. I promise.  
I don't own these characters.**

Chapter 13: Everything That You Wanted, Princess

_When everything you'll get is everything you wanted, princess_

_Well, which would you prefer?_

_My finger on the trigger_

_Or me face-down, down across your floor_

_And will you tell all your friends that you've got a gun to my head?_

_This was all only wishful thinking…_

"_Cute Without the 'E' (Cut from the Team)," Taking Back Sunday_

Three weeks have passed with no activity.

I am starting to get rather anxious.

I hate sitting here thinking that something could happen at any moment, and no one seems to give a shit. The Joker has got every cop in Gotham after him, not to mention the Batman, and yet he looks perfectly confident, perfectly composed.

I wish I could be that calm when I know I have a death warrant.

I mostly kind of sit around, either sulking or bored out of my wits. I keep asking him if he needs help, but he denies me again and again, telling me that I am not qualified to work with explosives and he doesn't want any unnecessary accidents to occur.

I am not that much of a dumb blonde, am I?

I leaned against the wooden work table, while he sawed away at some new device he was working on.

"Harley, I don't like how dangerously close you are to a sharp object." He said, not missing a beat in the work process.

I frowned, "Do you really not trust me?"

"Not near anything that could potentially kill you, no."

I didn't exactly picture him being the protective type. He had been on pins and needles since I had shared that emotional tidbit of my life with him. He did his best not to mention anything about it, but he didn't have to, considering it happened…um…16 years ago?

I'm over it.

Yeah.

Over it.

"Whatever," I rolled my eyes, "I'm so bored here. Can't I just take a walk or something? I feel like a prisoner."

"I told you; it's way too risky."

"Come on…" I whined.

Really, I actually just whined.

"Acting like a brat isn't going to get you anywhere, Princess."

"I told you not to call me that." I snapped.

"I enjoy your reaction."

"Well, I don't enjoy the jab at my upbringing. I was just lucky, alright? I can't help what I'm born into. You don't have to be an ass because your childhood was something like a Lifetime original movie."

Living with the same person 24/7 doesn't exactly do well for your nerves. I honestly didn't regret the insults that came out of my mouth anymore.

"Oh, you're hilarious. Really, stand-up comedy should give you a call."

"The sarcasm is fabulous, thanks." I stalked away.

"You'll be back." He called after me.

"Fuck you." I called back in a sweet, sing-song voice.

"You wish." He replied in the similar manner.

"No, really, I think you wish." I yelled across the warehouse. My voice reverberated off the steel walls, and the echo lasted longer after I had spoken.

"I can't exactly deny that!"

"Neither can I!"

"Then why don't we have sex already?!"

All the workers were staring at us like we were complete whack-jobs. Well, they already knew he was, but perhaps they didn't quite expect it from me.

"Because I'm not losing my virginity to a homicidal maniac!"

"I knew it! I KNEW you were a virgin!"

I was flustered, "Go fuck yourself!"

"I'd rather have you, dear!"

"I'm going now!"

"Then go!"

"I am!"

"I don't see you going!"

I slammed the door behind me, panting heavily. He just incited this furious reaction from me. I didn't honestly know whether it was love or hate. I just knew that he irritated me beyond belief, and if that was a sign of love, then…good Lord, I must be more fucked up than I thought.

Every day I tend to re-think my choices. Why did I let myself get dragged into this mess?

I heaved a deep sigh. Well, I'm stuck now.

I was starting to get very anxious; being here all the time, not being able to see any of my friends…oh wait…I didn't have any of those. I could see my family…wait, I wasn't speaking to them. Alright, my life kind of sucks.

I realized then that I didn't exactly have a life. I didn't even have a pet, for Christ sakes.

He was all I had.

…

I sat fuming in his room, wishing for a way out. I didn't have any contact with the outside world. I couldn't speak to anyone except him. Fuck me, this was so not going to work.

I decided that tonight I was going to try to break out. Just for a little while; just to remember what the city looks like. I had to come back; I had no choice in the matter. It's not like he was going to allow me to leave that easily.

I would do it. I would just talk a walk; clear my head, that's all. I just needed a break.

…

3 AM. I sat awake, listening to the sound of his rhythmic breathing next to me. I slowly, gingerly got out from under the covers, slipping on some flip-flops I had hidden under the bed. When he started a little, I froze, heart accelerating. He was just turning over.

Jesus Christ, I am going to need a pace-maker after this experience.

I literally tip-toed out of the room, completely on guard the entire time. I kept looking over at my shoulder, paranoid. No movement.

I sighed with relief as the elevator doors closed in front of me.

Once I had made it out of the warehouse, I exhaled deeply and slumped to the ground. I had escaped.


	14. Welcome to the Jungle

**A/N: Eh maybe not as long as I said. I finished what I needed to accomplish. The next chapter will be interesting. Probably with more humor.**

Chapter 14: Welcome to the Jungle

_Welcome to the jungle_

_It gets worse here every day_

_You learn to live like an animal_

_In the jungle where we play_

_If you got a hunger for what you see_

_You'll take it eventually_

_You can have everything you want_

_But you better not take it from me_

"_Welcome to the Jungle," Guns 'N' Roses_

Gotham was the jungle. And I was the Most Dangerous Game.

I realized that what I had done was wrong. Once he found out, he'd probably punish me. Maybe kill me, I didn't know. All I cared about was that I had gotten out from under his radar for the time being.

I had never seen the city at night. It was a bit frightening, I had to admit. No lights were on except the dim street lamps. But somehow I felt at peace. I felt like I had the world again. The fresh air, the smells of human life and wreckage…

Perhaps I was a bit strange. I guess that's what happens when you're a hostage. Even the grime seems wonderful.

No one was out at this hour. I felt like I could run about the streets, scream to the sky and sing, do anything I wanted. Not that I would, but I still thought about it.

I moved swiftly, taking in all I could see in these precious moments alone, away from my criminal life, away from everything and anyone, away from my past, present and future and all that was holding me back.

I am free.

At least for a few precious moments.

I broke into a run, not caring how much it hurt my feet. I no longer felt numb.

Suddenly, a black shadow swept in front of me, stopping me dead in my tracks. My heart immediately began beating mercilessly in my chest. A mugger? A rapist? Just my luck.

"What do you want?" I called, "I don't have any money."

"I'm not looking for that." A gruff voice replied.

I swallowed hard, "I don't have my virginity, either."

"Also not what I'm looking for."

I couldn't see where the voice was coming from. I circled the area, probably looking like a complete lunatic (well…not far from the truth, considering my situation), "Then what do you want from me? A conversation?"

"Funny, Harley."

"How do you know my name?" Now I was on guard.

"I've heard things." He said (I could at least tell it was a man) vaguely.

"Why don't you show yourself?"

"Think you can handle it?"

"I've seen enough in my life." I said wearily.

"Turn around."

And I saw the Batman.

My eyes widened, "Oh my God."

"Yes, I know who I am. No need to look so shocked." His dark eyes stared into my own. He looked tired, too.

"How do you know me?"

"I'm not without resources, Harley. I'd heard that the Joker picked up a female, and her description seemed rather similar to a certain Dr. Harleen Quinzel back at Arkham."

"I'm not just some female." I said crossly.

"Are you involved with the Joker?" he asked.

"In what way?"

"You know exactly in what way." He seemed annoyed at my feigned innocence.

"We're not involved sexually, if that's what you're thinking." I folded my arms across my chest, "If that's what everyone assumes, then they'd be wrong. I would not let that happen."

"The lady doth protest too much."

"What's the point of you talking to me? Are you taking me to prison? I know that's where I belong, anyway." I sighed, and held out my wrists, "I will go willingly. I deserve it."

"I'm not arresting you." He shook his head, and lowered my arms, "I'm warning you, Harley. Stay away from the Joker. Get out of here as soon as you can. You've already done some things I'm sure you're not too proud of."

My face blanched.

"A man is dead, Harley, isn't that enough?"

"You think I don't feel bad about that?" I accused him, "I wasn't even under orders."

"We all have our moments of weakness. Just take my advice and get out of town. I doubt he even knows you're out right now."

"Perceptive is the bat." I looked down at the ground, shame-faced.

"Are you planning on going back?"

"I have no choice." I shrugged, "He's going to flip a shit if he finds out I'm gone."

"Go home."

"He knows where that is."

"Have any family that you can stay with?"

"In New York City." I answered hesitantly. I hadn't spoken to my parents in over a month and a half. I couldn't just show up at their door. But maybe… "I do have my sister there."

"I will give you a ride." He offered.

I bit my lip. This was my chance at real escape. I knew the Joker was capable of many things. He'd still find me no matter what I did.

I looked back, seeing the warehouse in the distance under the bright moon. I swore I could see him there, standing at the window. Maybe I was hallucinating, but how could I know for sure?

"Yes. Take me."

…


	15. Maybe Then I'll Fade Away

**A/N: Oh, another one! I am spoiling you. This chapter gains a little insight into Harley's relationship with her sister. At the end is a little surprise. **

Chapter 15: Maybe Then I'll Fade Away

_Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts_

_It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black_

_No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue_

_I could not foresee this thing happening to you_

_If I look hard enough into the setting sun_

_My love will laugh with me before the morning comes_

"_Paint it Black," The Rolling Stones_

My sister had welcomed me with open arms. I had felt terrible considering what I thought of my sister at times. Sure, she was spoiled, arrogant, and got all the attention, but she had a kind heart beneath it all. I didn't tell her the truth, of course. My story was that I had been evicted from my apartment for the time being because of asbestos. Yeah, it was a rather lame-ass excuse, but it was all I could come up with at the last minute.

The Batman? He disappeared as soon as my sister opened the door. He was quite elusive, that man. But how I could complain? He had saved me from certain punishment.

I had to leave the Joker. It had been a mistake to begin with, a stupid infatuation, my mind playing tricks on me, telling me that he loved me somehow and he would take care of me. Well, I guess I had been wrong. Temporary insanity, I guess you could call it. It seemed like I was let loose for the time being, innocence remained until someone could prove it otherwise.

But still…every day I thought about him. He had obviously noticed my disappearance; that much was evident. Would he come looking for me? That was the question that plagued me. I found myself on guard all the time, looking over my shoulder. He was a sneaky bastard. I knew him well. He would find some way to infiltrate himself.

"Do you think we should tell Mom or Dad you're staying here?" my sister asked me one day as we were sipping lemonade on her apartment balcony.

"I'd rather not." I replied curtly.

"What's up with that? Mom's all tweaking out because you haven't spoken to her in like a month. What gives, sis? They're worried sick about you. I think you should at least tell me that you're here with me, that you're safe." She peered over her sunglasses at me.

"It's so much more complicated than that, Maggie." I sighed, "I don't want Mom and Dad interfering with my life anymore. They have you to worry about right now. They're still footing your med school bills and your rent."

She frowned, "Not like I want them doing those things for me. You must think I'm some conceited bitch."

"Well, not to be blunt about it." I shrugged.

"I guess I kind of deserve that." She admitted, "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to be sorry." I was surprised, "I'm done dealing with that. I worked out all my family issues during grad school."

"But that still doesn't make up for the missing childhood experiences." She protested, "I took everything you deserved."

I shook my head, "That's not true at all. Mom and Dad didn't give me the same advantages because they knew I could handle it. I've always lived my solitary lifestyle, even when I was a child. I was independent of them, and they knew it. You, on the other hand, thrive on human contact, Maggie. You needed the attention and the friends and the popularity. I didn't. It's just how I operate."

"You don't regret having no friends?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" I simmered.

"Sorry," she said quickly, "I mean…you don't regret not going to the prom or having a boyfriend or anything?"

"At times." I said calmly, "But I am proud of what I have accomplished up until this point."

Yeah, right. The fact that I am on the run from the authorities and a homicidal maniac may just kind of pop up at her door didn't bother me in the slightest.

"I always kind of wished I was more like you, Harley." Maggie set her glass down on the pavement of the balcony, "To have Mom and Dad's trust, to be so sure of yourself all the time."

"I'm definitely not like that." I cut her off, "Mom and Dad didn't trust me during my childhood. They always seemed to think that I was the one doing the bad things, but it really was you…because you're perfect in their eyes, Maggie. They think that they screwed up with me."

"How could they possibly believe that? You're a psychologist with a great job, you live on your own; you've done everything without them. You see, I want to do that. So badly. But they don't think I can. They just say, 'Oh, pumpkin, don't worry. We'll take care of it.' I want to do things myself! I want to be like you."

"Well, doing everything yourself is difficult. And being me is even more difficult." I stood up, opening the screen door. She stood up, following me inside.

"I idolized you growing up, sis. You were what I aspired to be. But look at me now. I depend on Mommy and Daddy's money and I'm not even out of school yet."

"You're 22. You have your whole life ahead of you. I'm 27 with just my job and no prospects in life whatsoever."

Wrong again, Harley, wrong again.

"But you're so pretty, so smart! Some guy must be after you!"

You have no fucking idea.

"No, no guys for me. My career is too important."

She snorted, "Yeah, right. I know you better than that. There's some guy, isn't there? Is that why you're really here? Are you hiding from him or something?"

She was a perceptive little bitch.

"Ok, fine, I'll level with you." I glared at her intensely, "Yeah, there's a guy. He's infuriating and wonderful at the same time. But he's not right at all for me. If I'm with him, I act like someone else. I don't want him in my life. He brings out a side of me that I don't even want to deal with. I hate him and I love him, and I have no idea what the fuck to do. Happy?"

She was quiet for a moment, "I'm happy that you told me the real reason you're here. But I'm not happy that you're upset. Why don't tell him what you've told me?"

"Because it's a whole hell of a lot more complicated than that." I sighed in frustration, "He's insane."

"You mean, like, he's insanely ass-hole-ish?"

"No, I mean, he's really insane."

"Ah," she said simply.

"What is there to 'ah' about?" I snapped.

"He's insanely in love with you. That's what makes him infuriating to you." She grinned, "You've never had someone be in love with you before, and you don't know how to handle it."

I stood there, staring at her.

"You're out of your god damn mind." I folded my arms across my chest.

But she was right.

She just kept on smirking, "And you're in love with him, too. You just can't admit it to yourself. God, Harley, you're a shrink. You should be able to know your own feelings."

"I know them better than anyone else." I said softly, "And that's what scares me."

"What are you so scared of? Getting hurt?" she put a hand on my shoulder, "I've been through a few relationships. I know what it's like to be in love. It's painful and amazing, but it's worth it in the end. You become someone better after each experience."

Not me. I will become dead after this experience.

"I've been hurt." I shrugged her off, "This is nothing like that."

"Why won't you let me in?" she was beginning to look angry, "Come on, you always do this to me, and to Mom and Dad. You won't let anybody understand what you're feeling. You just keep everything inside, Harley. It's not healthy."

"Who got a degree in psychology? Me or you, Margaret?"

"Being a doctor means understanding the mind, too, sis…and I can read yours like a book."

"You've never read a full book in your life."

"That's not the point!" she exclaimed, "God damn it, don't you want to talk to someone about your problems?"

"No." I said shortly.

"Well, then I can't help you." She frowned, "You're so aggravating, you know that?"

"Yeah, I happen to know that very well."

"Then stop it."

"Maggie, we're not teenagers anymore. We shouldn't argue like this." I rolled my eyes.

"I didn't start this fight."

"Yeah, you kind of did."

"I'm not even going to bother with this." She ran her hands through her thick, dark hair, "I'm going to take a shower and then study for my anatomy exam. Just do something productive in my absence, ok?"

"Whatever," I mumbled, and sat down on the couch, casually flipping channels.

After about an hour, I had begun to doze off a little. I was so tired nowadays, I guess. My life wasn't stressful anymore. It had been almost two weeks since I'd escaped. I was still on high alert, but I could rest easier every night he didn't show up at my door.

Suddenly, the doorbell sounded across the living room.

I just fucking jinxed myself.

"Oh, that's probably the Chinese I ordered!" my sister called from the bathroom, "Can you get it?"

"Yeah, yeah," I replied, standing up wearily.

My heart beat a little faster as I approached the door. I slowly opened it, and it revealed a man who looked terribly familiar. He was dressed in a Chinese delivery outfit, and carried three brown paper bags filled with chow mein and black pepper chicken, but I knew him right away.

"Miss me, Princess?"

…


	16. Blinded

**A/N: Ah yes. Here it is. Sorry to have kept you waiting. I am in the process of writing 17 so that will arrive shortly.**

Chapter 16: Blinded

_Did I disappoint you, or let you down?_

_Should I be feeling guilty, or let the judges frown?_

_Because I saw the end before we'd begun_

_Yes I saw you were blinded, and I knew I had won._

"_Goodbye My Lover," James Blunt_

I felt like I was falling. I felt a cold seeping deep through my skin, down to my bones. It was a feeling of utter despair…and deep fear. I was terrified, frozen solid.

My eyes were blinded by something I couldn't describe.

And I came into contact with hard-wood floor.

…

Please help me escape from this. This can't be happening.

How the hell did he find me?

…

I was shaken awake, my sister calling, "Harley! Harley! What happened? Why are you on the floor?!"

"I…I…" I looked up and saw the curious delivery boy. His face was no longer the Joker's; it was just a normal, average teenager, looking absolutely mortified.

It wasn't the Joker. It wasn't him?

Fuck. Now I'm hallucinating.

"I'm sorry, Jeremy." I apologized unsteadily, "I just…thought you were someone else. Something just came over me."

It was the same kid, the same teenager that always delivered our Chinese.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

Why the hell…? I must be going completely wacky.

"Here, Maggie." He handed her the bags.

"Thanks, sorry again, Jeremy." She said, and closed the door behind him.

She helped me onto the couch, "Harley, what's gotten into you? Is this the first time this has happened to you?"

"Yeah…" my voice trailed off.

I was confused and afraid. He had done this to me. He had made me paranoid, and I was taking it out on innocent Chinese delivery boys. I put my head in my hands and immediately began to cry.

My sister looked alarmed, "Oh my God, sweetie, it's ok. People faint all the time."

"No." I said stubbornly, "There's a reason behind this."

Maggie was very quiet for a few minutes, "The guy that loves you? Is he dangerous or something? Is that why you're so nervous like every second? Is he after you?"

I didn't respond. She was more intelligent than I had thought.

"Harley…you have to tell me. Is this guy after you?"

"Yes," I whispered.

Her face put on a determined expression, "Well, then we'll call the police. We'll catch him." She stood up to go to the phone.

I shouted, "NO!"

She turned around, "What the hell's your problem? You don't want him to be caught? You're freaking out over delivery boys and you think that's normal, sis? You're a psychologist. You should know better than that."

"I'm involved, too." I said softly, tearfully.

"How do you figure that?" she cocked her head, puzzled.

"I've…done some things with him that I'm not proud of."

"Oh, honey, you and he have…?"

"NO, not that," I said quickly, "Just…"

"Illegal things." She finished for me, simpering.

"Um…well, yeah," I admitted.

"You're so infatuated with this guy that you'd do illegal shit for him? You've got a serious problem on your hands." My sister said sternly.

"I know," I said helplessly.

She put a hand to her forehead, massaging her temples furiously, "God damn it, Harley, you think I want to worry about you? It should be the other way around."

"Usually it is." I said sheepishly.

She sighed, "How are we going to fix this mess?"

"We?" I asked weakly.

"Well, I am helping you." She said matter-of-factly.

"No, no, no," I shook my head vehemently, "You don't know what you're getting yourself into; this man is completely dangerous."

"Then why the hell are you with him in the first place?" she retorted.

I couldn't answer that question myself.

I just shrugged.

"Is he really attractive?" she asked.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I frowned.

"Hey, some girls will do anything for a guy who is obscenely attractive."

"Seriously, Maggie," I said, face dead-pan, "Do you think I would be gaga over some guy for that reason?"

She stared at me intently, "No, I guess not." She sat down on the couch next to me, "Sis, you've really gotten yourself into a mess."

"Yeah, well, just let me handle it." I sighed.

"Ok, I will." She said, much to my surprise, "I'm still going to worry about you."

"And don't tell Mom and Dad." I warned.

"I'm not guaranteeing that." She folded her arms across her chest.

"God damn it, Maggie!" I stood up, and walked out onto the balcony, breathing heavily. I thought it would be better here, away from him. For some reason, I kind of missed him, even though that is completely ridiculous.

Maggie didn't come after me. I think she figured I needed a little time alone. I stared out at the city in front of me, at all of the people, so unaware, so innocent to the evils our world contains. I guess I could be cynical; I had experienced the underbelly of Gotham. I never thought I'd be here. I was just lucky he hadn't found me. Yet I had the sinking feeling he knew where I was, and he was just looking for a good time to strike.

After a few minutes, I heard a light tap at the glass door leading to her balcony. I turned around, and she pointed at the paper bags, "We didn't eat the Chinese."

I had to crack a smile at that. I then went inside to join her.


	17. Warning Sign

**A/N: I put a lot of emotion into this chapter. There's a lot she's going through. I don't own these characters, but perhaps I own their emotions. R&R kthx.**

Chapter 17: Warning Sign

_And I can't deny your eyes_

_You know I tried to read between the lines_

_I saw a warning sign_

_And then you threw me up against the wall_

_Who said that it's better to have loved and lost?_

_I wish I had never loved at all._

"_Up Against the Wall," Boys Like Girls_

Another week went by with no interruptions. Still I felt even more anxious each day, ever since that last…incident. My sister was confused by my actions, but I could tell that she didn't want to say anything about it.

It was 3 AM. I couldn't sleep yet again. I had been sleeping on my sister's couch the past week, and this created a fucked-up sleep pattern, considering the couch was uncomfortable and the whole fact that a homicidal maniac was pretty much out to get me.

I was frankly surprised that he hadn't thought to come to my sister's. It had crossed my mind that he might have gone to my parent's, and that created more worry because he could have done something to them. But they knew nothing of where I was, because I had begged my sister to not call them for fear of him possibly being there or holding them hostage or something like that. Believe me, I had thought of every possible scenario, each one getting worse and worse.

I had to stop worrying. He hadn't found me…yet. I just knew it was coming, and I was going to be ready when it did.

But I would never be ready, and I knew that, too.

Everything was a mess in my head. I couldn't think about anything else, focus on my life. Who knew that being a psychologist would end up qualifying me for a psych ward?

I tossed and turned on the couch, not being able to stop my mind from thinking. I tried to close my eyes, tell myself to sleep, but that didn't work. It never worked.

I had to say my sister was pretty charitable, considering the fact that she knew I had lied to her about my housing situation. I thought maybe I could go back to my house, get back on with life. Other than I am on the run from the police. Right…there's that.

I could move, get away from here, away from Gotham. Somehow the thought still nagged me that he would find me no matter where I went. If he truly felt that strongly about me, he wouldn't stop. I knew that. But I couldn't help thinking.

A tap at the window startled me. I slowly looked over, heart racing, and saw the Batman.

He gestured for me to come outside, and I nodded. I got up, and very quietly opened the screen door. As I closed it, I immediately felt the cold wind hit me, and I shivered involuntarily.

"Sorry to call you out here, but I couldn't speak with you inside. You understand." He said in his low, gravelly voice.

"Of course," I said, rubbing my arms, which were quickly pricking with goose-bumps.

"I have good news."

"And what's that?"

"The Joker's in county."

"What?"

"He's in prison. They caught him." He said, "And he told them to pardon you, drop your charges. They deemed it as temporary insanity. You weren't in a mental state to make judgments."

I couldn't believe it. Not at all.

"Are you sure it's him?" I asked.

"Yes." He said, looking concerned, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know. It just seems too good to be true." I replied. Life never works this way.

"I know it does now. But he has requested to see you."

"Why?"

"He won't say. Just said he really needs to speak to you." The Batman looked uncomfortable.

"I see." I said quietly.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes." I lied. How the hell could I be alright? This had to be some sort of trap. He had something up his sleeve, and I knew it.

"You may go there any time, Miss Quinzel. You can have your job back. They want you back." He assured me.

That was the least of my fucking problems.

"Ok," I said uneasily, "Thank you for telling me."

"You'd better go soon." He said.

"I will."

"Alright," he then swooped off again into the night. An elusive and simple man, he was. Or at least he seemed to be. I wondered what it must be like to be someone's hero. Everyone's hero. I was far from that. I went back inside, and lay back down on the couch.

This was certainly too good to be true. Going there would only complicate things. But I had to go. I couldn't deny that request. Not because of the consequences it could lead to, but because of the desire I had to see him. I knew I physically just couldn't deny him.

…

I left the house around 6 in the morning, the sun barely rising over the skyscrapers of Gotham. I left my sister a short note, saying I was going out, not sure when I would be back, don't worry and don't call me.

I hailed a weary-looking taxi and its driver, and headed down to the county prison. I didn't know what to expect when I arrived, and neither did I care.

I stepped up to the front desk. A tired and burly cop looked down at me, "May I help you?"

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel, here to see –"

I didn't even finish my sentence before his eyes immediately widened, "Oh, Miss Quinzel! We've been expecting you!"

He then ushered me through the hallway and to a door that read 'Commissioner James Gordon'. He knocked on the door, and after hearing a "Come in" pushed me inside.

"Hello, Miss Quinzel." He said. He looked as if he had been there all night. His clothes were rumpled and his eyes were bloodshot, but I could see that he was a kind man, a good man. I think I could trust him.

"Hello," I said somewhat awkwardly.

"I would first like to assure you that all of your charges in this case have been dropped. The Joker confessed to everything. He said that he couldn't let you go down with him. I frankly was a little shocked when he said this because I didn't think he could feel anything for anyone." He stood up, paced a little, "He seems very fond of you, Miss Quinzel."

"I'm aware of that."

"How long were you hostage at his operation?"

"About a month."

"Did he ever ask you to commit any crimes for him?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me."

"I said no." I said firmly.

"Alright," he hesitated a little before continuing, "We've agreed to let him see you, but you must promise not to go within 5 feet of him. Keep it quick. We have cameras, so we will know if the two of you are plotting anything."

When I raised an eyebrow, he sighed, "You didn't expect me to trust you?"

"No." I admitted.

"You seem like a smart woman, Miss Quinzel. May I ask what possessed you to help this man?"

"I can't honestly answer that, Commissioner, because I really don't know. I felt that he could be helped somehow, whether it is psychologically…or…I don't know, emotionally…but I tried my best, and it blew up in my face. I feel terrible for the things I've done, and I regret it. What I don't regret is feeling that he cared about me. I know that may constitute me as completely out of my mind, crazy, and maybe I am a little crazy. I've always thought so. Anyway, he tricked me. I know that now, but what can I do about it now that it's over?" I choked back tears, "I'm sorry. I never cry in front of people."

"It's alright. This is emotional for you. I understand."

"I just want to see him one last time before you commit him to a life behind bars."

"If we commit him, Miss Quinzel, he may get the death penalty." He said gently.

"What?" the room seemed to stop. No…no…not possible…

"You may be the last person he sees before we put him into solitary confinement, and then lethal injection on Friday."

It was Wednesday.

"Oh my God," I whispered, shaking uncontrollably, "Oh my God."

He reached out to touch my shoulder in comfort, but withdrew it, "I'm sorry."

"I need a moment." I could barely speak.

"Alright," he walked out of his office, leaving me alone.

This can't be happening. No. God damn it, no. NO! NO! NO! NO!!!!!!

I wouldn't live without him.

I feared him.

But I loved him. I knew that.

I wouldn't live. I wouldn't live without him. No way. Not in this world.

I was breaking him out.

I was saving him from this.

I was saving me from heartache.

He wasn't dying. Not today.

I'm going to do it again. I'm going to go against my better judgment. I'm going to do something and not think about it.

He wasn't going to die on me. Not now. Not ever.

NEVER.


	18. Breaking Down is Easy

**A/N: Lo and behold, another glorious chapter. Ha ha. Well, they finally meet again. See what ensues. I don't own these characters. DC Comics does and I have no chance of ever acquiring the massive amounts of money to buy the rights. Especially after Christopher Nolan made the Dark Knight.  
Ok, off my soapbox.**

Chapter 18: Breaking Down Is Easy

_Bend me, break me_

_Any way you need me_

_All I want is you_

_Bend me, break me_

_Breaking down is easy_

_All I want is you._

"_I Think I'm Paranoid," Garbage_

After I had collected myself, I stepped outside, seeing the Commissioner looking very anxious.

"Are you alright, Miss Quinzel?"

"Yes, just fine. It's just a lot to deal with, that's all." I said softly, "May I see him?"

He nodded, and gestured for me to follow him. We passed many cells with many criminals who had done many things worth being there. I tried to keep myself composed, not letting the situation get to me, trying to block everything and just be.

"Here he is." the Commissioner said, stopping at the cell. It was a steel door, one of maximum security evidently. He pulled out a ring of keys, and after a minute or two of fumbling, he located the right one. He handed it to me, "Hand it to the man outside the cell when you're finished."

"Alright," I said.

"I will be in my office if you require anything else."

"Duly noted, sir."

He stared at me for a moment, and then left me. I looked over at the burly bodyguard standing next to the cell, and he raised an eyebrow skeptically at me.

I shook it off, and put the key into the lock, slowing turning it. I took a breath as I stepped inside.

"What the hell do you guys want?" a voice snapped at me.

The lights weren't on.

I flipped the switch, blinking rapidly to adjust my eyes to the fluorescent light.

I looked over at him. His face was wiped clean of his make-up, leaving him exposed. No wonder he was so upset. He looked absolutely miserable, like he hadn't slept in days.

"Hi." I said quietly.

His face was emotionless as his eyes met mine, "Oh. It's you."

That hurt more than him being angry.

"I'm sorry."

"What about?"

"Leaving." I bit my lip, trying to keep myself from breaking down completely in front of him.

"I've long forgiven you." He said.

"Really?" I was shocked.

"Yeah, really. If you had wanted to leave, you should have told me, Harley. Yeah, it would have hurt more, but wow…escaping…real classy, I've gotta say." His voice was bitter.

"I'm so sorry." I said again, "I don't know how many times I can say that until I mean it. I shouldn't have left."

"Then why did you?"

"I was tired of being a prisoner." I said helplessly.

"Then you should have told me." He repeated.

"How was I going to tell you that? You would have killed me on the spot." I said, folding my arms across my chest, "Don't tell me you wouldn't have been livid."

"Of course I would have. I wouldn't have killed you. That's low, even for me. I'm not going to kill the person that I…" he hesitated for a moment, "…care the most about."

"Really, I didn't exactly notice you cared about me, because you've threatened me, verbally abused me, made me feel like shit." It was no use holding back my emotion anymore, "Was it any wonder I left? I was sick and tired of being locked inside; not being able to see the world as it was, committing crimes, being your accomplice!"

I turned away from him, panting heavily, staring at the wall, "I'm sorry. I lost control for a moment there." I faced him again, "They said you wanted them to drop my charges."

"I told them that I made you do those things. It wasn't your fault. You were tricked, brainwashed."

"It's a lie." I sighed.

"Yes, well, I lied. Big fucking deal. I know you did those things out of your own free will, but I'm not going to let you go down with me. That would be selfish and inhumane of me to do that to you."

"You should have let me go down. I wouldn't have put up a fight." I protested.

"Do you want me to tell them?"

"No." I said quickly, "That's not it. I want to save my own skin, but I still know in my heart that I did it, and that I have regretted it every day since then. You're not going to stop how I feel but dropping all the charges against me."

"I'm sorry." He said.

"Sorry for what?"

"Making you the way you are now. It wasn't fair to you, what I did. I'm a criminal, I'm a terrible, evil, fucking bastard. And that for sure isn't you. You have your life to get back to, Harley."

"It's not my life without you in it." I said fiercely.

"Ditto," he said with a crooked smile.

"They want to give you the death penalty."

"Yeah, I know."

"How are you not upset about that?"

"Because I'm going to escape before they can do it."

"And how's that?"

"You're going to break me out." He said matter-of-factly.

I had to smile, I couldn't help it, "Why would you assume I'd help you a second time?"

"Because you love me, Princess."

"I still hate that nickname."

He laughed, "I know you do. It's funny to see you pissed off."

"You're a real sadist."

"Tell me something I don't know."

I sat down next to him, leaning my head against his shoulder, "So, how the hell are we going to get you out of here?"

"Don't worry. I've got a plan."

"You always do." I said fondly.

We sat there in silence for a few minutes. He grasped my hand, intertwining his fingers through mine, "When you were gone, I felt sort of empty."

"Me too." I conceded, "Honestly, I wanted to get away from you, and all I ended up doing was thinking of you. Why didn't you come after me?"

"I didn't think it was necessary. I knew you'd come back eventually."

"Oh, really?" I sat up straight, "And why's that?"

"Because we're meant to be together, Harley. You have to know that by now. No matter when or where or how we're apart, we're going to come back together. It's kind of like magnetism. I knew it when I met you, that you were something special."

"Magnetism, huh?" I said, closing my eyes, "Well, I hated physics."

…


	19. Bleed For Me, Bleed For You

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. Christmas break is upon me and I've been rather busy and unfocused. So here you go, another exciting chapter! R&R kthx.**

Chapter 19: Bleed For Me, Bleed For You

_It came as no surprise_

_You bring me back to life_

_Believe me_

_You bleed for me, I'll bleed for you_

_I caught you walking through walls_

_Drowned from applause_

_From the world that makes me crazy_

"_Monsters," Matchbook Romance _

So breathe it in now, and breathe it out.

I made a promise. I have to keep it. I have to go through with this. I have no choice.

Not that I haven't contemplated the fact that I could leave him to die, but that thought caused my heart to feel as if it had been stabbed and my blood to run cold in my veins. He had me up against the wall and I couldn't escape. He had made me care. He had made me love him.

As I put on my costume, I suddenly felt at peace, comfortable. I put on my mask, covering my face to the world, and the hat, covering the hair that could give me away.

I stood outside the jail. It was impossibly dark outside; not even stars in the sky, the slit of a moon in the distance. I was speechless and motionless.

My pale face was whiter in the darkness. I jumped, startled by my own reflection in the window of the prison. I exhaled deeply, trying to stop my racing heart.

It's looking like another breakdown.

No…I can't do this now.

I have to pull it together.

Inhale. Exhale.

Ok.

I'm ready.

I slowly made my way towards the back entrance of the building. This was going to be significantly more difficult considering the last I broke him out, I had authorization to be there. And yes, I did realize that this was going to ruin my chances of ever being able to work around here again. I had made amends with that thought a long time ago.

I reached the back door. It was in an abandoned alley, not facing the street. Very dark, very creepy. No one around, and no one would find me here. Perfect.

I pulled at the door once. Locked. Well, I knew that would happen. I had planned for this.

I snatched one of the hairpins out from under my hood, and used it to pick the lock. It did seem a little cliché, but like the movies, it always worked. Nothing, may I remind you, is ever too obvious.

As the door clicked open, I carefully peered through the doorway, checking to see if the area was clear, which it was. Damn, security in Gotham really needs an upgrade.

I closed the door behind me, as silently as was humanly possible, and took off down the hall as fast as I could, so that I made no sound.

I pressed my back to the wall when I heard voices around me.

"Did you hear something, Joe?"

"Nah, probably just the wind. I saw on the news today that it would be a stormy night."

"Oh, yeah, see I don't watch the news too much. It's too depressing lately."

"Amen to that," their voices faded as they disappeared down the opposite hallway.

I am seriously going to have a premature heart attack before all this is over.

I took off again at a run, and finally reached his cell. Oh shit. No keys. A hairpin isn't going to open this maximum security hold. I needed Gordon's keys. Now this was one flaw I didn't think about. I really need to plan things better.

I racked my brain, trying to remember where the office was. Suddenly it came to me, and I slipped away, and down the hall toward the office. As I reached it, I saw that the light was on. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, and double fuck.

Of course he would still be here. I needed a distraction.

I knocked on the door, and hurriedly hid in the nearest corridor.

The door slowly opened, and Gordon peered out, "Is anyone out here?"

I affected a lower voice, "It's Debbie, the receptionist. Your wife is here to see you at the front desk. Something about Jimmy falling out of a tree or something. She seems pretty upset. You might want to go see her."

"Where are you?"

"I'm on the way to the bathroom. Sorry, can't stop to talk." I started stepping on the ground.

"Oh, thanks, Debbie. Tell her I'll be right there." Gordon disappeared into his office for a moment, and then emerged again, heading for the front desk.

I am smooth. Oh yeah.

I went into the office in an almost panic, searching for the keys. I saw them, sitting right behind his filing cabinet. Well, this is almost too easy. You'd think the police commissioner would be a bit smarter than this.

I grabbed the keys and ran out of the office, and back toward the Joker's cell.

I was breaking so many laws right now.

But, ok, since when have I cared?

I reached the cell, and fished through the mass of keys for the right one, and upon locating it, opened the cell.

"What, do I get a bathroom break or something?" the Joker asked bitterly.

"It's me." I hissed.

He stood up, "Harley?"

"SHH. I'm getting you out of here." I whispered harshly, "Let's go."

He nodded, getting the whole silence thing.

We got out of the cell, and locked it.

"Should I return these?" I said, looking down at the keys.

"Oh just leave 'em. They're going to know I'm gone, anyway." He replied quickly.

"Good point," I dropped them on the ground outside the cell, and grabbed his hand as we rushed down the hallway. As we reached the back door and broke out into the fresh air, I collapsed on the ground.

"Harley!" the Joker picked me up, "What the hell is wrong?"

"I am going to have health problems after dealing with all this stress, dumb-ass." I snapped, but too weakly to have any effect.

"Let's get you out of here." He helped me steady myself, "Can you walk?"

"Yeah, yeah," I shoved him off, "Just be fucking thankful for me, ok? I just broke you out of confinement for the second time in like 2 months."

"I am thankful." He said softly.

"Good." I said. We started walking away. I knew at this late hour, no one was exactly going to mess with us, and no one knew what the Joker looked like under his mask, with the exception of me and a few security guards at County.

"So, are we going to walk back to my warehouse or something?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess. My plans stopped here." I said sheepishly.

"Fair enough," he shrugged.

"How about we just hijack a car?" I suggested.

"Sounds like a plan."

After finding a lonely old car on the street a few blocks over, he hot-wired it, and we were on our way. He grasped my hand, "Harley?"

I was staring absent-mindedly out the window, "What?"

"I…I think…I love you."


	20. Going Too Far

**A/N: Here's another one. Enjoy. I don't own these characters. DC comics does, and how I wish I did so that I didn't have to waste time writing disclaimers.**

Chapter 20: Going Too Far

_And when I think of all the places I just don't belong_

_I come to grips with life and realize this is going too far_

_I don't belong here, we gotta move on dear, and escape from this afterlife_

'_Cause this time I'm right to move on and on, far away from here._

"_Afterlife", Avenged Sevenfold_

"Harley? Did you hear me? I'm kind of spilling my guts here."

"Uh…yeah…I heard you. I'm just trying to process this." I was blank. I had no idea how to respond. My mind was wiped clean of any rational thought. How could he throw this on me after what we'd been through tonight?

"What's there to process? That's my confession, ok? I've had a lot of time to think, and that was my conclusion." He said shortly, "Why can't you look at me?"

"Because that would betray what I'm thinking," I replied, still gazing out at the dark city.

"Well, can you at least give me a yes or no?"

"No…"

"No, you don't love me, or no you won't give me an answer?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" I shouted, "Good Lord, leave me alone for a minute! I just fucking broke you out of prison and who knows how many freaking laws I've broken tonight! I've alienated everyone in my life because of you, and now you expect me to tell you that I love you? Not happening yet, got it? Give me some time to understand the situation at hand before I give you any sort of final answer."

"Ok, so what are your reasons for not wanting to love me?"

"OH WELL, how about the fact I don't even know your real name? Where you grew up? What's your favorite color, your favorite music or something? I don't know, seriously, things normal girls would know about their guys!" I snapped.

"Nobody knows my real name except me." He said.

"Do you ever plan on telling me?"

"Not really."

"Well, fine then, I'm not giving you an answer, then." I said, folding my arms across my chest and staring purposely out the window again.

"At least look me in the eye."

"No," I said stubbornly.

"You're an obstinate bitch, aren't you?"

"Oh, and you think that calling me names is going to get me back? Fat fucking chance, Joker. How can you still love me after what I've done to you? I left your ass. I left! Why do you still feel that way? And, ok, why didn't you come after me?" I shot at him, finally turning to face him. I thought he should see how angry he was making me.

"Because I knew you'd come back to me." He said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, oh! I see! You just assumed I would come crawling back to you on my own accord? I wasn't planning on seeing you ever again, thanks."

"Really? Then why did you ask me why I didn't come after you?"

My mouth was agape like a fish. I couldn't exactly respond to that without incriminating my intentions, "I don't know."

"You're losing steam." He smirked.

"You haven't won, if that's what you're thinking."

"I'm not in this for a trophy. I'm in this for a chance, Harley."

"A chance at what?"

"Loving you."

"I won't allow you to love me." I frowned.

"Why not?"

"I ALREADY SAID WHY!" I shouted, "I don't know one fucking thing about you! Stop asking me why! Why? Why?! Why, Harley? Because Harley is sick and tired of screwing herself over for you!"

"Well, finally you tell the truth." He said, smug.

I wanted to punch him. I really did. But I restrained.

"You are coercing me into it." I snapped.

"I haven't forced you into anything."

"Can we please just change the subject?"

"What the hell are we going to talk about?" he reached for my hand, but I retracted it.

"I don't know. Let's not talk, then." I closed my eyes, weary.

"I'm just going to bring this up again, you know."

"I don't want to worry about feelings right now. I want to worry about what's going to happen next." I rubbed my temples in frustration, "Have you even considered what you were going to do once I broke you out?"

"Back to the warehouse, of course. I still haven't accomplished my goal." He said determinedly.

"And what's that?"

"To get the Batman." He said curtly.

I bit my lip. I didn't dare tell him what had transpired not two nights ago. The Batman had helped me out of a couple sticky situations already, and I felt like I sort of owed him something.

"What's wrong with you? Why do you look like you're sick to the stomach?" the Joker broke my train of thought.

"Nothing…just thinking."

"About what, Princess?"

"I thought we discussed the Princess thing."

"I like to piss you off." He shrugged.

I sighed, "I don't understand what the Batman means to your schemes."

"Do I have to spell it out for you? The Batman undermines all that I work for. He is the opposite of chaos and anarchy." He said fiercely.

"You see, chaos and anarchy are not exactly…"

He interrupted me, "What? They're not exactly what you're used to? Well, I'm sorry, but the world got along fine without rules some time ago."

"Yeah, like 2000 years ago. You want civilized people to revert back to that? There is a reason we have rules."

"Ok and what's that?"

"We have rules so that…" I struggled to find the words to describe it, "So that…we don't go out of our minds. People shouldn't kill people, or rape, or steal. We have rules so that people aren't treated unfairly and, yeah, I will admit that some rules are a bit exaggerated and there are institutions have some part in rules that they shouldn't, but that's the world and it's going to be exceedingly difficult to change what everyone knows and believes."

"That's my purpose. To show the world that there is another side to this life." He had parked the car in front of the warehouse, "I want to show the world that people can do whatever they want and there should be no punishment for how you feel."

"I don't understand." I shook my head, "The Batman isn't trying to stop the world from changing. That isn't his purpose. His purpose is to show people how to behave like human beings."

"Why are you defending him?" he got out of the car, and I followed suit.

"I'm not defending him; I'm just defending his principles. The world shouldn't be about bias or luck or chance, but unfortunately, it is. We can't help what we're born into." I said, "Because, believe me, I wish we could pick what we want to be, but things don't work that way, and never have. It wasn't better before; in fact, it was worse. At least now we can marry who we want to, and have some choice about our career or our families. What we have to do now is just work hard for the things we want. We are given an open slate and it's our choice what to do with it."

"That's exactly my point. Why shouldn't you live a life of crime if you want to?" he countered.

"Because it's wrong! It's wrong to steal and murder, because you're taking away what someone has worked so hard for!" I followed him into the warehouse.

"Oh, I see." He turned to face me, "And did Mommy and Daddy work hard for what they have? Because last time I checked, Princess, Daddy comes from a long line of money."

His words stung. I felt angry tears well up in my eyes, and I slapped him across the face, "Don't you DARE talk about my parents like that!"

He was silent for a moment, touching his reddening face.

"You defend the people you hate."

"I don't hate my parents! I could never hate the people who raised me, because like it or not, they shaped me into this. Just because your parents were disappointments doesn't mean you can –"

"SHUT UP!" he screamed at me, "Don't bring my issues into this!"

"DON'T YELL AT ME!" I screamed back, "You started this! If you're going to be like this after what I've done for you, then I'm fucking leaving again!"

I turned on my heel, ready to make a run for it. He grabbed my forearm tightly, and I struggled to break free from his grasp.

"Don't leave me again." His voice had softened.

"Don't try to stop me!" I attempted to shove him and kick him, but to no avail. He just held me at arm's length. He was a good deal stronger than I imagined.

"I apologize for shouting at you. I don't want us to go to bed angry."

"We aren't some married couple having a spat here, Joker! We aren't even lovers; we're nothing to each other!" I didn't care how much my words hurt at this point.

"You consider what we have nothing?"

"Yes!"

"If I meant nothing to you, then you would have left long ago."

He had me there.

I, as if in slow motion, slumped into his embrace, exhausted from the argument, "Take me upstairs."

"Alright," he said.

He carried me to the elevator, and I closed my eyes, hearing the clanking sounds as it reached his private apartment.

He put me on the bed, and unzipped my costume, leaving me naked and shivering.

"Do you want a shirt or something?" he asked.

I nodded, curled up in fetal position under the sheets.

He handed it to me, and I put it on somewhat haphazardly.

He climbed in next to me, and pulled me into his arms, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright." I said drowsily.

And then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed me gently. My eyes shot open, but I didn't break away. For some reason, I didn't want to. I could have been too tired. I still don't know. He deepened the kiss, his hand pressing into the small of my back.

We broke away for a moment, and then stared at each other. Somehow there was just an understanding between us. He pushed my shirt up, running his fingers against my thighs.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he said softly.

"Do it before I decide otherwise." I buried my face into his neck.

And we made love quietly, like those in love would, and once we had finished, he had fallen asleep, his arms draped across me protectively.

I am so going to regret this in the morning.


	21. It Comes With A Price

**A/N: Sorry it's so short. The next chapter will be longer because there's more that I need to accomplish in it. R&R kthx. **

Chapter 21: It Comes With a Price

_Am I supposed to be happy?_

_With all I ever wanted, it comes with a price_

_You said that you would die for me…_

_Lost in a simple game of cat and mouse_

_Are we the same people as before this came to light?_

"_Cat and Mouse," The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus_

I didn't know how to feel at this point. My mind was blank. I had nothing to say or do. I compromised how I really felt. God help me. Eh…what does God have to do with it? I'm not turning to faith now. I was past that.

I had no faith in myself anymore. How could I do this? It wasn't like I didn't want it. I couldn't decide whether I regretted what I had done or if I was proud of myself.

I had stayed up way into the night, watching the lights from the cars on the street dance across the walls and listening to the sound of his breathing next to me. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't think. Where had my rationality gone?

I rolled over on my side, trying once again to sleep. But my mind was racing and my eyes wouldn't close. I buried my face into the pillows, breathing angrily into it. The Joker stirred a bit, but didn't wake. I stared at his sleeping form, wondering what I had been thinking. Or wasn't thinking.

I could leave now. He'd never know. Could I do that to him again? No. That had been just as much trouble as staying, so I might as well just stay. I lay there, arguing with myself, and feeling more frustrated each minute. What did I want? Everything I want comes with a price.

And I had compromised the very core of myself for the man. I had given him something that I couldn't give anyone else, and I had done it without a second thought. What did this mean? Did it mean that I actually might love him? I didn't know. I didn't know anything anymore.

I wanted to cry, but my eyes were dry.

I wanted to move, but I was motionless.

I wanted to leave, but I was glued to the spot.

I wanted to speak, to scream, but my mouth didn't function.

I wanted out.

But now I'm too far in to go back out. So I guess I'm going to have to deal with this; my mistake.

I closed my eyes, hoping I could rest…and soon enough, sleep came.

…

_You'll burn in hell; you'll burn in hell for your sins, Harley…_

What? Who are you?

_That's not your concern._

Are you my conscience?

_Perhaps I am that. Perhaps I am nothing._

I don't understand.

_You don't need to understand. I am a figment. I am a dream figure._

Why are you here?

_I want to warn you._

Warn me?

_You should get out while you can, Harley._

Why? What's going to happen to me?

_This won't end well. I promise you that_.

How do you know that?

_That's not your concern._

Why should I believe you?

_You don't have to believe me. Or you can. It's your choice._

Please…I want to know why you're telling me this.

_This relationship is toxic, and you know it._

Yes, I know.

_Then heed my warning. Get out while you can. Start over._

I don't think I have the strength for that.

_You will. You just have to try._

This is just a nightmare.

_You keep telling yourself that._

This is just a nightmare.

_I will leave now. Who knows if I will be back for you?_

Leave me!

_I am._

…

I bolted upright in the bed.

I had seen myself. But it wasn't myself? It was like a ghost, a spirit of me. It was like my soul had separated from my body and was speaking to me.

I had a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe it was just a nightmare…but maybe it had been an omen.

I didn't know what to make of it. I supposed that I would have to see what it meant. Maybe I would know soon…but it was still disturbing. It was me. But not me?

Whatever it was…it scared me. My blood was running cold in my veins and my mouth felt dry. I hadn't experienced nightmares in a very long time…not since my mother was in the hospital. But those nightmares had been wrong. My mother was still alive and well. Maybe I was just paranoid.

I need to go back to sleep.

I looked out the window and saw the blood-red sun rising in the distance. It was a new day already. Maybe today would be different. Maybe it would be good.

Or it could be the worst day of my life.

I don't know. I guess I would have to see what happened next.


	22. Lashing Out

**A/N: A bit of an emotionally charged chapter. Sorry for the coarse language sometimes. I just needed it to the get the point across. I don't own these characters; I only own my imagination.**

Chapter 22: Lashing Out

_Why are you trying to make fun of me?_

_You think it's funny? What the fuck do you think it's doing to me?_

_You take your turn lashing out at me_

_I want you crying when you're dirty in front of me._

"_Thoughtless," Evanescence_

The abrasive sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the room around me. I groaned, turning away from it. Another sleepless night. It had been almost a week without being able to fall into a deep sleep. Every time I tried, that same nightmare kept coming back, haunting me over and over again. I was starting to think that it was really a bad sign.

I looked down at the Joker, who was blinking his eyes to get used to the sunlight. We hadn't exactly left the apartment in a while, not even to go down to the warehouse to check on progress for his latest scheme.

"Good morning," he said drowsily.

"I guess." I leaned back against my pillow.

"No sleep again?" he asked, actually sounding concerned about it.

I shook my head, "Only fitful."

"Do you think you're developing insomnia or something? I had that for a while after my mom left." He kissed my forehead.

"That's probably it." I said pensively, "What helped you sleep again?"

"Well, the reason I developed it was because I was worrying about my mom, and basically I just told myself that she was better off without my dad holding her down…and that right now, she was probably sleeping better than she had in a very long time." He stroked my hair as he reminisced, "I just kind of had to convince myself not to worry anymore. I've slept fine ever since."

I thought about this for a moment or two. I telling myself not to worry would be denial. While defense mechanisms were necessary and inevitable in the course of ridding oneself of anxiety-inducing situations, this wasn't the right time for that.

"Ok…" I said quietly.

"What's bothering you?"

"Nothing," I mumbled.

"Oh, it's definitely something."

"It really isn't." I said shortly.

"Don't get defensive with me. Having sex with me bothered you."

"No, it didn't."

"Stop arguing with me. You need to tell me the truth."

"Ok, fine, maybe it did a little." I admitted.

"Why?"

"I don't know!"

"Well, obviously it bothered you for a reason." He embraced me, "Tell me. Were you not ready for that?"

"You're never ready for that."

"Harley, seriously, if you have something to say, say it." He was starting to become annoyed. I could sense the testiness in his tone.

"Fine, fine, I've been having nightmares ever since we did it…telling me that we don't belong together, and that I should leave you before it's too late…and they scare me. It's like I'm telling myself the future…that this romance we have is wrong…that it's doomed no matter what we do. I feel like I might have made a huge mistake and now I can't get myself out of it." My words spilled out of my mouth faster than I could think them.

His hold on me slackened, "I don't know what to tell you. I don't want you to leave. I told you that I love you…and I'm going to wait for you to love me. We're too far into this game to break free of it now."

"This is a game to you?" I said harshly, trying to push him away.

"That's not what I meant!" he protested, hanging on to me in a vice-like grip.

"Well, it sure as hell sounded like that." I snapped.

"This isn't a game to me at all. Not at all, Princess."

"Stop calling me that! You know how much it offends me! You always pull that out when you want me to play the 'poor me' card. Get over the fact that my childhood was infinitely more satisfying than yours. You don't need to throw it in my face every chance you get." Angry tears stung my eyes.

"I use it to bring you back to reality. And the reality is that you need to stop pitying yourself and see the world through someone else's eyes. You don't want to empathize with me. You don't want me to love you. Well, it's too late for that." he said.

"I wish you didn't love me." I whispered.

"Why?"

"Because you don't deserve what I do to you."

"You left because you felt trapped. I get that. You're talking to the person who left home at fifteen because he was sick of an abusive alcoholic father."

"That's not the same." I shook my head, wiping at my eyes fiercely, "My parents were – are – good people."

"Then why won't you talk to them? How long has it been since anyone in your family has seen you? You talk about me not letting you in, when, huh, really you should take a good look at yourself."

"Shut up." I replied, furious, "I can't speak to my family because I'm not speaking to them. It's complicated, alright? They know I still love them."

"How complicated could it be, considering you guys were the perfect little family?"

"Don't be condescending. Every family has its problems, big or small. I need to get over jealousy issues with my sister, and I have for the most part. Maggie and I have a mutual understanding. We share some of the same ambitions about life, and we like to be in each other's lives when necessary. We make it a point to be that way." I didn't mean to reveal that much. I instantly shut my mouth, trying to prevent myself from verbal diarrhea all over again.

"Ah, so that's where you were when you left." He said.

"You didn't know that?" I asked. I was shocked, to be perfectly honest.

"No, you just kind of revealed it in that spiel." He smirked.

"So what? What does it matter to you?"

"It matters a great deal to me. How much did you tell her?" his face grew serious, frightening.

"I didn't tell her anything." I said uneasily.

"You're lying."

"No, I am not!" I said indignantly, "I told her that my apartment was being fumigated and I needed somewhere to stay."

"And she believed that crock of shit?"

"Yes, because she's my sister, ok? She trusts me, more than she should, at least." I admitted, "Why would I tell her anything about us? That's none of her affair."

"I don't think you're telling me the whole truth, but I'm going to let it go." He said warily, "You don't have to lie to me all the time. I can see right through it. If you sister knows anything, I will find out eventually. I have my sources; I promise you that."

"Is that a threat?" My blood seemed to run cold in my veins.

"Maybe."

The way he said it, the way he looked when he said it…I just lost control. I sprung up from the bed, and stood there, screaming at him in the loudest voice I could muster.

"How DARE you threaten my family?! If anything happens to them, I will know it was you! Do you really want that on your shoulders? I will go back to County and tell them everything! I don't care if I have to go to jail! But you know what; I wouldn't even care if they gave you the death penalty because that's what you deserved!" I stormed about the room, gathering steam, "I can't believe how stupid I am! Why did I even do this to myself? I should have just skipped town like I was planning to do and rid myself of you and your fucking bullshit lies and ALL THE FUCKING PAIN YOU PUT ME THROUGH!"

I broke down into hysterics, then, forgetting myself and where I was, "How dare you do this to me? After I went through everything for you! EVERYTHING I SACRIFICED FOR YOU! You don't even care, do you? NO, NO, NO, you're just going to sit there all smug and like the FUCKING BULLSHIT LYING BASTARD that you are! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

His eyes wide…he stared at me like he didn't know how to react.

"Yeah, that's all you can do! I know! HARLEY'S FUCKING CRAZY, RIGHT?! Yeah, well, maybe I am a little crazy because of you! So, thanks for the memories, man, I'll sure be thinking of you when I see your death on the news! And guess what, I won't care! I won't a shit if you're dead or alive, because I'll be rid of you! This is it! This is over!" I could taste the tears against my lips, and they streamed down my face relentlessly, a release, "I'm leaving you."

"No, you're not."

"YES I AM. Get it through your god damned stubborn head!"

"Harley…"

I collapsed on the floor, exhausted from screaming. I felt my shallow breath through my lungs, and the room seemed to close in around me. My heart was still racing from the pure adrenaline, all the energy I had used. I wanted to see the look on his face, but I couldn't move from the floor.

"Harley…" he was saying, but it sounded far away, like he was in a dream.

"Get away," I tried to swat at him, but to no avail.

"Let me help you up." His face came into focus.

"No…" I said, feeble, "No…go away…"

"You're sleep deprived…that's all this is." He tried to coax me up.

"No…" my voice broke, losing any semblance of stubbornness that I wanted to get across.

"Harley, please, let me help you like you helped me. I'm sorry…"

"No, you're not sorry." I protested, struggling weakly to break free of his grasp.

He put me on the bed, tucking me in the covers. I couldn't even fight back, retaliate.

"Sleep." He said softly.

"No." my eyes were growing heavy.

"For me."

"Why would I…do anything…for…you…" my voice trailed off as I drifted into sleep for the first time in a week.

…


	23. Nightmares

**A/N: ATTENTION TO BURN ME DOWN READERS: This story will be 30 chapters, so that's what I have planned out. Since I really grew to love this story, I will be writing a sequel. The title or the general plot is up for grabs still...but if anyone has any suggestions for me, that would be greatly appreciated...so without further ado, here is Chapter 23. Chapter 24 is currently being written, but please know that I am going back to college on Sunday the 11th so updates will not be coming as quickly as they have been. Please be patient! Thanks so much for reading!**

Chapter 23: Nightmares

_That night he caged her, bruised her, broke her_

_He struggled closer, and then he stole her_

_Violet wrists and then her ankles, silent pain_

_Then he slowly saw their nightmares were his dreams._

"_Monster," Meg and Dia_

I was in a stark white room. A figure, with its back to me, stood opposite from me. It turned to face me. It was me. But I had no face. But it was obviously me.

It spoke.

_What did I tell you?_

Oh damn it, not you again.

_Nice to know I was missed._

Look, I'm sick of you haunting my – your – whatever, my dreams.

_Oh, Harley…you had a chance to leave him. _

But I didn't.

_Why?_

How the hell am I supposed to know?

_You're too broken._

I'm not broken.

_You're dependent, then._

That's not it, either.

_You need someone. It's obvious. Come on, Harley, wake up._

I wish I could.

_Then why don't you? You have the strength._

I want to know who you are.

_That's none of your concern._

Why won't you answer me?

_It's your nightmare. Why don't I answer? Maybe you don't want an answer._

But I do!

The figure shook its head, its blonde mane of curls shaking as if in slow-motion.

_Harley, Harley, Harley…_

What?!

_You know what you have to do._

You have to tell me. I don't understand.

_You have to figure that out on your own. You must know what you want._

I want to get out of here.

_Then do it._

I want to leave him.

_Then do it._

But he'll hunt me down.

_That may be a consequence. You must consider all your options._

What other choice do I have?

_That's up to you to decide._

I could stay.

_But that's not what you want._

Are you trying to help me or kill me?

_You haven't decided that yet._

Why won't you leave me alone?

_I don't know. Ask yourself that question._

Maybe…maybe this is me telling myself to wake up.

_Maybe it is, Harley._

Was that what you're here for?

The figure said nothing. It just dissipated into black, and my eyes shot open. I knew what I had to do now. I had to start again, without him in my life. I needed to break free, and stay free. This is a big world. I will find myself again, not this person that I seem to believe I am. I am not Harley Quinn…or whoever he wants me to be. I am me. And that's all there is to it.

I'm going to break free.

I almost felt bad, in a way. He truly did care about me, but this wasn't what I wanted. I wanted a normal life, to get married, to have children, a family like mine. I wanted to be what I had set out to be before all of this shit derailed me.

I was going to reconcile with my parents, be myself again.

And oh, it is going to feel so good.

…

It was in the early hours of the morning, at the time when the night was darkest. The Joker was fast asleep next to me, peaceful. I carefully left the bed, trying not to steal any glances at him. I was afraid to look at him because I knew it would stop me. I could already feel my eyes welling up with unnecessary tears, and I bit my lip hard. This is what I want to do. This is what I want to do. I had to keep repeating the mantra to myself so that I wouldn't break down completely.

I reached under the bed, taking out the suitcase I had packed the night before. I began to head for the elevator, and then suddenly I thought it would be best to leave him a little note before I left.

I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, and scribbled something quick.

_I guess you will know when you wake that I've gone. I'm sorry to leave you again, and yes, I can admit that I do love you, but I don't love you enough to stay. I'm truly sorry for that. Please don't come looking for me. I don't want to be found. I promise that this time, I will not come back for any reason. No matter what the reason may be. I don't want to sound harsh. I don't mean this to come out that way. I suppose you should have guessed that this might happen eventually. But I can't be Harley Quinn. My name is Harleen Quinzel, and that's all I will ever be. _

_Remember that I am truly sorry for leaving you and that I will always care about you. _

_Harley_

I took a deep breath and then left for the elevator, cringing when it creakingly opened in front of me. I wanted to take one last look, but I restrained myself…barely.

I am so sorry…to you, Joker, because I could never be what you dreamed me to be. I am sorry…to my feelings, because I fooled them into believing that this was love, and I am sorry…to fooling myself into believing I could be someone else.

As I stepped out into the twilight streets of Gotham, I remembered the last time I did this, and was shocked by how different I felt. Then, I had been scared, heart beating uncontrollably. Now, I was at peace with my decision. I knew with some confidence that I wouldn't be tempted to go back to him. I was going to start over, do what I had originally set out to do.

To be honest, I couldn't help feeling a little lost. Where would I go now? I was just a girl with a suitcase and no Batman to save me now. Everything I had with the Joker was destroyed with a swift exit, and somehow, I was still at peace with that.

I walked down the empty street, the only sound was the clacking of my shoes against the sidewalk. I knew I would have to find somewhere to spend the night at least, a hotel perhaps. And suddenly, it hit me.

The only place I could go now…was to see my parents.


	24. My Place

**A/N: I have to admit, I thought this would be a filler chapter, but I ended up liking it a lot more than I had planned. The end is rough. The next chapter will be an extremely emotional one, one that will test the boundaries...or at least I hope so. Don't worry, the Joker and Harley will be reunited soon. I can't resist writing their chemistry. **

**I don't own DC Comics characters.**

Chapter 24: My Place

_Should I give up, or should I just keep chasing pavements?_

_Even if it leads nowhere_

_Or would it be a waste_

_Even if I knew my place_

_Should I leave it there_

"_Chasing Pavements," Adele_

I stepped out of the cab I had taken to my parents' apartment building in New York City. I paid the driver, and he sped off. I didn't hear anything behind me, not even the sounds of the busy crowded streets and the people pushing past me to grab a taxi or going to the subway. I stood there for at least a few minutes, trying to gather my thoughts. I hadn't spoken to my parents in at least two months, if not more. They didn't even know I was coming.

It was a Saturday morning, so I figured that they would be at home. I entered the building cautiously, and stepped foot into a rather elegant lobby. They even had a receptionist and a gilded fountain and everything. It's not like I wasn't used to it, but I hadn't honestly been in this building since I don't remember when. I usually kept my visits with my parents limited.

I went up to the receptionist, who was on the phone, and it clearly wasn't a business call.

"Yeah, honey, so then I told him we were totally through and I totally threw all his shit out on the street…" she was gabbing into the desk phone.

I cleared my throat loudly.

She looked up at me, and snapped her gum, "Yeah, what do you want, hon?"

"I'm here to see Henry and Maria Quinzel. Penthouse apartment number 3."

"And what is your relation to the Quinzels, ma'am?"

"I'm their daughter, Harley?" I tried to keep my face dignified instead of putting on an exasperated, simpering glare.

"Oh, yeah, yeah. I'll alert them that you've arrived." She pointed to the elevator, "Press…"

"Yeah, the 24th floor. I know." I said, striding toward the elevator.

"Have a good day, ma'am." The girl continued her phone conversation.

I pressed the '24' button, and the doors closed in front of me.

It was nothing like the elevator I was used to in the warehouse. It had that oh-so-lovely soft music (today it was Michael Bolton), and the buttons actually lit up and it was clean. I hadn't imagined that I would miss the high life this much.

I had spent the last 3 nights sleeping in a Holiday Inn, using the money from my savings account, of which I still had a substantial amount. Unfortunately, considering the fact that I had no income right now, that money would become low rather quickly.

As the doors opened, and I stepped out, I was blind-sided by a grown woman throwing herself at me, "Oh, Harley!"

"Hi, Mom." I said, face dead-pan.

"Oh my God, your father and I have been so worried about you!" she still had her arms wrapped tightly around me; "We've been trying to call you for two months. Where the hell have you been?"

"That will all be explained." I said, "Can you please let me go? I can't breathe."

"Oh, sorry!" she released me, and I stared into her face. Her normally bright, clear face had seen much worry. Even though she was in her 50's, she had always had great skin, and now there were the beginning signs of wrinkles. Her hair was starting to grow a few grays, as well. I had never seen my mother as old before. It was kind of disheartening in a way.

"We're so happy that you've come back." She smiled, and I could see her eyes growing glassy with tears.

"Oh, no, no, Mom, don't cry!" I shook my head vehemently.

"I can't help it. We thought you were dead or something." She wiped at her eyes, "Can you blame a mother for worrying?"

"No, I guess not."

She dragged me inside, calling, "Henry! Henry! Harley's here!"

My father jumped up from the couch, something I had never seen him do. He rushed toward me, and pulled me into an embrace, "Harleen, don't ever disappear again."

"Yes, Dad." I managed to choke out.

"I'm sorry. It's just that your mother and I are so incredibly happy to see that you're home and that you're safe." His green eyes shone with true joy, and I felt a tug at my heart.

"Can we sit down?" I said, "I want to explain the cause of my absence."

"Of course." My mother said.

I had this story worked out pretty well enough in my mind. I mean; I did have at least 3 or 4 days to prepare it. I just didn't want my parents to know the truth, because it would hurt them much more than it would hurt me.

"Ok…so…um…where do I begin?" I mused, "Well, after I left the house a couple months ago – sorry for the spat, by the way, that was really rude of me – I went back to Arkham and quit the Joker case because it was conflicting with my life much more than I desired it to."

You could say that again.

"Anyway, I worked for a little while more and um…I met this guy. This really nice, really caring guy who only wanted the best for me. He was very smart, a little older than me, mature…and we began to date for a while."

"Well, that's exciting!" my mother grinned at my father, "I always knew our daughter was a head-turner!"

"Mom…" I said.

"Oh, sorry, dear, continue." She said quickly.

"Well, then the landlord of my building decided to fumigate the apartments and I went to stay with Maggie for a couple weeks, which I am positive you know about because Maggie tells you guys everything."

"Yes, she did tell us about that. But she said you left very suddenly and didn't really explain why." My mother said.

My father added, "That's what got us worried the most. You basically just disappeared."

"Well, um…my guy took me to Aruba with him on business. It was an impulsive gesture and I just took it without really thinking it through completely." I sighed, "It was a really fun trip, but things started going wrong."

My mother put her hand on mine, "Did he break it off?"

"No, no, it was me, actually." I corrected her, "I just didn't see myself making it very far with him. I didn't see us going anywhere, having a family, making a life together. He was too interested in his work to care and I felt sort of lonely around him. I just had some sort of existential crisis about it. Then I left abruptly. I felt that it would be best for the both of us."

"I'm sorry, dear." She really did look sympathetic, and my heart broke to see how much they trusted me. I did put some truth in that story. A lot of the reasons were the same; I just didn't add the whole multiple felonies part.

"What was his name?" my mother asked, "Just curious."

"Jack," I said after a slight hesitation.

"You should tell me the company he works for. I'll get him fired." My mother said determinedly, "I am the best lawyer this side of Long Island."

"No, no, he's been through enough with me already." I shook my head vehemently, "That won't be necessary, Mom."

"Are you sure? I'll bring him down." My mom had her serious look on; the one she always had when she wanted to put someone out forever in a court of law.

"It's ok, really. I'm not that broken up about it, to be honest." That much was mostly the truth; I hadn't thought much about him the past few days.

I knew I was better off without him. That was a fact.

My father, who had been silent for most of the discussion, asked, "What became of this Joker?"

"I…uh…I don't really know." I faltered.

"Your mother and I were following the story. Apparently he escaped from Arkham with the help of an employed psychiatrist assigned to his case. Sources said that it had been a woman with blonde hair."

"It wasn't me." I said firmly. I was a good liar.

"I didn't know that there were any other women that worked at Arkham with you." My mother looked puzzled.

"They hired this woman, Brittany…um…what was her name? Brittany Summers; yeah, that's it. A ditzy girl. I have no clue. She must have slept her way through grad school or something. Only she would have been weak enough to let him cast her under his spell." I was surprised at how fast this falsification tumbled out of my mouth.

My father relaxed, obviously believing my story, "Oh, good. Your mother and I thought it sounded…just so much like you…but we knew you weren't that stupid."

Ouch.

"No, not me." I said with a weak laugh.

My mother, who had long since meandered into the kitchen to get some lemonade, appeared with three glasses on a tray, "Oh, Henry, have you heard from Maggie today? She had some huge anatomy exam this morning and she told me that she would call me afterward."

"No, not yet, Maria. I'm sure something came up. She'll call sooner or later." He said, smiling at my mother with such a love that I knew I would never achieve.

A feeling of dread washed over me. I didn't know why, but something wasn't right here. I tried to push my feelings aside, dismissing them as paranoia.

"So, Mom and Dad, I have a big favor to ask of you." I said.

"What is it?" my mom asked, sipping her lemonade.

"Well, um, I quit my job at Arkham, and since then I've kind of been living off my savings account, and the money is dwindling a bit…"

My mother interjected, "Don't you worry. How much do you need?"

"Enough to put a substantial down payment on a house." I said breathlessly.

My mother just stared at me for a moment, "A house?"

"Yes…I want to move out of the city, find a nice suburb and settle down there, start my own practice. I think it will be much better for me. Somewhere out of the way." I had decided this during my enlightenment.

"Well, of course we support your decision, but you will be so far away…" my mother said with a hint of sadness in her tone.

"Oh, I just want to move upstate about an hour. It's not like I'll be in another country or something." I rolled my eyes. I wish that could have been possible, actually…

"Alright, well, how about we give you 50,000 to start you off? It was your father's bonus this year for saving an almost terminally ill patient. We were going to use it to go on vacation, but you need it more than we do." My mother stood up to get her checkbook.

"No, I couldn't!" I protested.

"Yes, you can." She said shortly.

I demurred, "Alright."

She ripped out a check and handed it to me. There it was, all made out to my name.

"I don't know to thank you for this." I said, tearing up a little unintentionally.

"You're our daughter. You deserve it." My father patted my shoulder.

No, I didn't. I really didn't deserve this at all. How could I lie to them like this? I wanted so badly to get out of here, to get far out of reach from the Joker. The longer I stayed, the better chances he had of finding me.

"Can I stay the night, perhaps?" I inquired, "I don't want to be inconvenient, though."

"Absolutely, you can!" my mother exclaimed, "You can stay in the guest room. Will you need a ride out to the suburbs tomorrow?"

"No, no, I can take a cab." I said.

"That will be rather expensive." She frowned.

"I still have money." I said, slightly annoyed.

"Well, I'm just doing what's best for you. No need to talk back to me." She shrugged. She turned to my father, helping him up from the armchair he had been perched on, "Let's go into the kitchen. Sophie has cooked the best steak."

She looked at me expectantly. I stood up and followed them to the dining room.

…

The thought about my sister had been nagging on me all evening. I was tossing and turning in the guest room bed, staring up at the gilded ceiling. It was very unlike Maggie to miss a call or to forget. Even though she didn't have the academic skill I had, she was not a forgetful person in the least.

Another thought keeping me awake was the fact that I had told so many lies today, and had gained their trust when I didn't earn it at all. I was a terrible daughter, for tricking them so easily.

Well, I honestly couldn't understand how they believed that crock. I guess I must have been a convincing liar. I never had been before. That disheartened me.

As I tried to push everything out of my mind and drift off to sleep, I could hear a light tapping sound against the window of the guest room.

I froze, waiting to see if it would stop. It didn't.

I stood up, creeping over to the window to see who could possibly have gotten up here at this time of night, and I saw the Batman staring at me.

I was startled, but not totally shocked. I gestured for him to move back, and I opened the window to talk to him.

"Hello," he said in his gruff voice.

"Hi," I replied, "Um…why are you here?"

"I know you unleashed him again."

"I can explain…" I began to defend myself, and he held up a hand.

"That's not what I am here about." His face looked grim.

Right away, I knew it. I tried to fight back my tears, "What's happened to Maggie?"

"What?"

"My sister. That's what you're here about, isn't it?"

He was dreadfully quiet then, "I'm so sorry, Harley."

"No…" I whispered, "No…"

"We found the body 2 hours ago in her apartment…"

"Oh God, oh God!" I was almost hyperventilating.

"Calm down."

"I can't calm down!" Tears were streaming down my face, "It was him, wasn't it? He killed my sister to spite me! That bastard!"

"I'm…I'm so sorry. You should wake your parents and tell them. I don't want them to hear it on the news." The Batman grasped my hand tightly, "I lost my parents when I was young. I know your pain, Harley. Just know that."

He then disappeared into the night, leaving me speechless in the dark.

...


	25. Enough

**A/N: A rather emotional chapter. I teared up a bit writing it...umm...anyway, now that you I'm a wimp, just read my fic. Kthxbai. PLEASE R&R.  
I don't own characters already copyrighted by DC Comics.**

Chapter 25: Enough

_Face down in the dirt she said_

_This doesn't hurt she said_

_I've finally had enough._

"_Face Down," The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus_

The news had devastated me.

He had gone way too far…way too far.

I stood out on the balcony for so long that all of me had gone numb. I had watched the moon fall behind the horizon and the sun rise above it. I was so blank. I had nothing to say. I didn't know what to do right now. The idea that my little sister…I could no longer speak to her or see her face…I couldn't think about it.

I slumped down onto the stone floor of the balcony in hysterics. I lay there on the floor just crying and crying and didn't know when it would stop. I didn't care when I would stop. I just wanted the pain to subside, for me to forget what I had just heard. But I couldn't.

…

My mother found me an hour later, pulling me up from the ground. I looked into her face, and the look that passed between us was one of understanding and complete agony.

How could I tell her right now that this was all my fault?

…

I drove my dad's red Porsche convertible behind their sleek black Mercedes-Benz into the winding roads of the Long Island Cemetery. The world had been in silence for a few days now. The wake had been very nice; so many people had come to pay their respects, more people than I could ever imagine. My parents held strong through it all…they put on a dignified air and pretended to not be losing their heads with grief. I, on the other hand, just stared into space, not even hearing the compliments paid me ("Oh, you're so grown up…", "So beautiful, just like your sister, God rest her soul…").

I didn't want to hear what they had to say. They would never know how I felt.

It felt like everything had been in a haze since that night. I kept thinking…how could he do this to me? How could he take away something I held so dear? If he thought that this would make me come back, oh, really, he had another fucking thing coming.

I stopped the car, and stepped out to meet my parents. We followed behind the coffin with the somber pall-bearers and the Catholic priest in all his black robes and fake sympathy.

I watched as they lowered her body into the ground, unable to feel anything but rage. I was going to find that son of a bitch and make sure he was dead if it was the last thing I did. I decided that right then and there.

As the people dispersed, I still stood there, staring at the fresh earth she was buried underneath.

My mother touched my shoulder, and I barely heard her speak, "Harley…we're going home…"

I just waved her away, and she grabbed my father's arm. They walked away toward the rest of our family and friends, getting ready to the funeral luncheon.

After everyone had left, and I was left to the silent cemetery with all of its silent tenants, I sank to my knees on the dirt in front of her body.

"I'm sorry, Maggie." I whispered, "You didn't deserve this. It should be me in your place. I will avenge you, even if it kills me, too. You loved me, and I resented you. My own sister. Please forgive me. God only takes the best of us too soon."

I stood up shakily from the ground, brushing the dirt off of my skirt, when something caught my eye. A man was peering at me from behind a large oak tree a few feet away.

Oh, and it wasn't just any man. It was him.

"I see you." I said, balling my fists tightly, making my knuckles white, "Be a man and fucking show yourself."

He moved toward me, and I couldn't control myself. I rushed at him with all I had in me, and tackled him. I had clearly knocked the wind out of him, because his face registered a look of pure shock as I punched him in the face over and over again.

I hit with all the rage I had in my heart, and I could tell that I had at least broken his nose; it was bleeding profusely and was bent at a strange angle.

I pushed him again, tears running down my face, "You! You did this to me! After all we've been through! I hope you're happy! Really, I hope you are!"

"Ok, ok, Harley, I know you're angry." He said.

"Angry? ANGRY?! I'm beyond that. Oh my God, angry?! That's all you have to say to me after what you've done?!?!" I yelled in his face.

He managed to push me off of him, but I held fast. He tried to crawl away from me, and I followed him easily, kicking his shins, "This is what you deserve, you son of a bitch bastard! I could seriously kill you right now!"

"Stop kicking me!"

"NO! I will break every bone in your fucking body before I quit! I want you to know the pain I feel right now! Why did you do this to me? WHY?! TELL ME WHY!!!" I screamed feverishly.

"You left me again!" he put his face to the ground, and I could tell he was tired, upset. I could have cared less in that moment.

He deserved this.

"TELL ME WHY! I SAID TELL ME WHY!!! DON'T HIDE FROM ME!!!" I screamed again, with all the force I could muster from my lungs.

He turned over on his back, and I could see his face. A mix of blood and tears was flowing from his eyes, and I had stop for a moment. What the hell was I doing? Was this really helping?

"Harley…I love you. And you left me. I was furious. What else could I do?" he sounded so helpless, so…heart-broken, "I needed to get your attention."

"And this is what you decided on?!" My pity immediately disappeared, "Why didn't you just kill me?! That would have been so much easier!"

"I could never do that." He said warily, "I am not a complete monster."

"Oh, I really beg to differ on that statement." I shook my head.

"Harley…"

"Just stop." I said firmly, "I left you. Get out of my life, and stay out of it. I don't want to see you anymore, or ever again, for that matter. I thought I made that clear. You've done nothing but hurt me and fuck up my life. Neither of us deserve what has happened. I know you're upset about me leaving you, but you should have seen it coming. I wasn't happy. Couldn't you see that?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up my hand to silence him, "Please don't say anything. This is the most talking I've done in the last 5 days since you cut off everything I cared about in this world. There's a very fine line between me alive and me dead right now. I feel so empty. I feel so broken, and you're to blame for that. I'm not going to sugar-coat words for you, because you need to hear this."

I took a breath, and exhaled deeply, "I hate you. I really hate you. It's not a word I'm going to throw around, and I've saved hatred for someone who really and truly makes me so furious as you do. I believed in you at first, I really did. I realize now that I was a huge idiot for believing your bullshit and your heartless lies. All you want to do is undermine my very being and make me into something that I will never be. I was raised to be a good person, and you weren't. It's as simple as that. Don't call me Princess, don't call me spoiled, because there's no use in pointing out the obvious, alright? How would you like it if I called you 'poor' and 'filthy' and so many other things I'd prefer not to say? I could look down at you, but I didn't."

"Harley…"

"I said don't speak!" I snapped, "I'm not done talking yet. I've been holding all of this for a long time, so you better fucking listen. I don't understand why you don't seem to get the point. You're in denial about what we had. I can see right through it. I never loved you, and there was a chance that I could have if you hadn't done this. You took away what meant the most to me. You took away my career, my reputation, and now my family. That is something I can never forgive. So, if you will kindly just walk out of my life, I'd appreciate it."

I turned away from him, not letting him see how much this had upset me.

I waited a few minutes, just listening to the cold wind blow through the trees of the cemetery. I could still sense his presence behind me.

"I SAID LEAVE." I said, still not facing him.

"I can't."

"It's not that difficult."

"Do you even comprehend how much I care about you, Harley?" I could hear his footsteps coming closer, the leaves crunching underneath the soles of his shoes.

"Don't you dare touch me. I will go insane on you again. That is not a threat; that is a promise." I said through gritted teeth.

"What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"What are you going to do now, I mean?"

"None of your god damn business." I replied curtly.

"I'll still watch out for you." He said softly.

"Don't waste your time."

"Stop being so hostile."

"I have a right to be hostile." I folded my arms across my chest to keep from shaking with rage.

The wind blew through my hair, in my face. I pushed it away in aggravation. I was still rooted to the spot, not knowing what I should do.

"You are so beautiful."

"Stop it." I said warningly.

"I'm just pointing it out."

"Leave me alone, please. I'm asking you, if you still have love in your heart, please let me go. Let me walk away from you, and don't follow me." My voice shook as I spoke.

"I'm distressing you." He said, sounding concerned.

"Yeah, well, your presence kind of does that to me."

He put a hand on my shoulder, and I shrugged it off, "Stop it."

"Can I at least hug you good-bye, if I'm going to go quietly?" he requested.

I hesitated for a moment, "I'll allow you that at least."

I turned, still looking down at the ground. I couldn't look him in the eyes; he was the person who killed my sister, and me letting him embrace me was enough to break my heart.

He put his arms around me tightly, and waited for a moment, "You seem to be in this a little half-heartedly."

"I refuse to let you win." My mouth was so tight; it was a line across my face, "Let me go now."

"Alright," he slowly released me.

I then turned on my heel, and strode away, head still held high. I had kept my cool, mostly. I had done what I had to do. I wasn't fully satisfied with the situation, of course, but deep down, I knew it had affected him as much as it had affected me. That was satisfaction enough.


	26. Better in Time

**A/N: I think this will be a different side to Harley that I really wanted to show. Don't worry, the Joker will be back soon. Be patient.  
Harley finally gets a chance at happiness...how long before that ends?  
I don't own DC Comics characters.**

Chapter 26: Better in Time

_Thought I couldn't live without you_

_It's gonna hurt when it heals, too_

_It will all get better in time_

_And though I really love you_

_I'm gonna smile because I deserve to_

_It will all get better in time._

"_Better in Time," Leona Lewis_

I drove on a long, winding road, with the radio blasting and a smile on my face. I was going to start over. I would never forget what happened before, but I was going to start over. I had decided to leave New York City and seek a suburb upstate, about half an hour from my family's summer home.

My parents had not wanted me to leave so soon after my sister's funeral. They thought that I didn't have nearly enough time to grieve for her, that I was too emotionally unstable. I was fine. Or, well, at least as fine as I could be. I felt clean again, different.

I was ready for a new beginning.

I drove past a sign that proclaimed "Apple Meadows, the happiest place on Earth". I had to question if that was true. I thought it was worth a shot. The place sounded unassuming enough.

I got off the exit for the town, and immediately liked what I saw. It was so unlike New York in any way that I wondered why I hadn't thought about this in the first place. The houses were small but rather inviting, and the shops were all so quaint and homemade.

The people on the street stared at me. Not like I wasn't expecting them to; I was driving the Porsche my parents had decided to give me, claiming they didn't need it, and considering a certain someone had made my beautiful red Ferrari disappear.

I doubted that these small-towners had seen anything like me before. I was, after all, a city girl at heart. I think that a new experience would be good for me, would make me forget all the problems that had plagued my past. My parents and I were closer now, brought together because of my sister's death, and…he and I were no longer going to speak. Everything seemed alright now.

I cruised through the virtually empty streets in search of a 'For Sale' sign on any of the houses. I drove around and around, not seeing one. I could tell people in this town probably stayed here their entire lives and didn't want to venture outside their comfort zone.

And then I saw it. A two-story brick house with ivy and wrought-iron gates. It looked like it probably was the most expensive house in the town. It was perfect. And completely vacant.

I parked my car in front of it, and walked up, amazed at how lovely it was. I had always wanted my own house, and this had been what I had envisioned. Of course, I never imagined living in it on my own. That hadn't been in the game plan. I would be living here with my doctor husband and two adorable little boys or girls and a Golden Retriever named Buddy and…eh, you get the point.

I waited for a moment for anyone to pass by, and an older-looking woman stopped to talk to me.

"Hello, dear, can I help you? You look a little lost."

"Um, yeah, I was wondering if this house was for sale." In my head, I was screaming, 'Please say yes! Please!'

"Oh, no one has lived there for years. No one ever really passes through here; you're the first new person anyone has seen in at least a year or two. You're more than welcome to take it." She smiled.

"Are you serious?" I was in disbelief, "I don't even to talk to a real estate agent or anything?"

"That isn't necessary. No one owns it, so why not?" she shrugged, "Are you willing to pay for any renovations it might need?"

"Well, yes, definitely." I nodded vehemently.

"Then by all means, take it."

"Wow…thank you." I stared at my new home, nearly jumping up and down with excitement.

"Where are you from, dear?" the woman asked, obviously curious.

"New York City." I replied.

"I could tell."

"Is that a bad thing?" I said, a bit anxiously.

"No, but city folk have a certain air of worldliness about them. You look like you've been through a lot of trouble in your life." She explained.

"You're rather observant." I said, "And yeah, I have."

"Coming here to start over then, I suppose?"

"Yeah."

"It's a good place for that. Everyone here is very amiable. You'll fit in with no problems. We have plenty of things to do here."

"Really? Like what?" I was interested.

"Oh, we have a nice coffee shop that people your age tend to mill around often. We have barn dances almost every weekend; those are exciting…" she mused, "When the school choir sings, that's a huge turnout for everyone."

"Wow, that all sounds so…nice." I struggled to find a word.

"I know it's nothing like the city." She chuckled a little, "I sense that you're a bit uncomfortable."

"Yeah…I'm kind of used to theaters and fast food places. Not to mention…well…civilization." I flushed a bit in embarrassment, "No offense."

"None taken." She said dismissively, "Well, I'll let you get acquainted with your new home. My name is Betty Stuart, if you need anything. I live down on 5th street, past the corner store."

"Thanks for your help. I really do appreciate it." I said, shaking her hand.

"My pleasure. Have a good day!" she called as she walked away.

Well, that was different. People helping people and not yelling profanities at them? I could definitely get used to this.

…

I entered the house, putting my suitcases down in the front hall. There was a living room, a kitchen and dining room, and a bathroom on my right. There was a staircase to my exact right when I stepped in the door, and I climbed them to see what the upstairs was like. There were two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a little side closet of which I didn't know what to use…perhaps a linen closet or a pantry.

Other than that being a bit on the dusty side, it still looked in good shape. I would have to buy new furniture, clean up a little, but hey, it's not like I was expecting perfection.

I went upstairs, and unloaded all the contents of my clothing into my bedroom closet. I assessed the room quickly. Closet was plenty big enough, the bed was a queen size (lonely for single me), and there were two extra dressers still needing to be utilized.

I realized then something very distressing: I was single.

Not that…he….had been my boyfriend in any way possible, but it still was a man in my life. I sort of missed that. Scratch that, I really missed it.

After clearing a few things up in the house, I decided I was going to have to send out change of addresses to my family and…ok, no friends, but family.

I closed the door behind me, locking it. (I had found the keys under the mat; how typical.) I strode down the street, taking all of the countryside air in and observing the weird looks I got from the locals. Well, they would have to get used to me; I was going to stick around.

As I was on the way to the general store, I noticed a sign for a doctor's office: Dr. John Carmichael, M.D. I paused, considering this for a moment. I did have a doctorate in psychology; maybe he needed some help. I entered the office, surprised at my own boldness in this case. I suppose that I had to be bold, being in a totally new environment, networking again.

I was startled by the "ding" noise that accompanied my entrance, and then felt rather stupid for being startled. No one was in the waiting room; only a very amused nurse staring at me.

"Do you need to see Dr. Carmichael?" she asked.

"Um, yes, actually. I was going to run a business proposition by him." I said, leaning on the counter, "Is he in?"

"Yes, but he is with a patient currently. You will have to wait a few minutes."

I hate apathetic, vacant workers.

"Alright, thanks." I said, and took a seat in the waiting room.

I started to browse through a medical magazine, and the nurse asked, somewhat timidly, "Are you a doctor, ma'am?"

"Yes, of psychology, why?" I replied, a bit annoyed that she had interrupted me.

"Oh, I was just asking, because no one ever reads medical magazines in our office. I just found it interesting that it was the first one you picked up."

I chuckled a bit at that, "Yeah, I guess that does seem weird."

She opened her mouth to say something, and the door next to her counter opened, revealing an older man in his 40's who was leaned over at a very awkward angle. My diagnosis would be back problems, but that's my humble guess.

"Well, Mr. Johansson, you're going to have rest for a while, so none of those 10 hour days you work down at the hardware store." A kind voice said behind the older man.

"Yeah, thanks, Dr. John, for seeing me on such short notice." Mr. Johansson said, smiling at the man behind him.

I tried to see around the older man, craning my head painfully, and then gave up at the expense of straining any muscles in my neck. Well, at least I was a doctor's office, right? …You don't have to laugh at my puns; I know they're terrible.

"Amanda, is there anyone else here? I want to take a break." Dr. Carmichael finally appeared, the mystery man.

Oh, and what a man he was. He had shaggy blonde hair that fell in front of his face, and he threw his head back as if by nature to get it out of his sight, and eyes as blue as mine, tanned, lean, muscular. In a word, he was HOT. There really is no other eloquent, intelligent word to describe him, much as I wish there was.

Amanda (which apparently was the nurse's name) pointed to me, "This young lady would like to see you."

He looked over at me, and as our eyes met, I felt like someone punched me in the stomach. My heart kind of literally stopped beating for about 2 seconds. I was frozen to the spot, a bit speechless, to be honest.

I noticed a slight change in his face, too; the look of someone dazed.

He walked over to me, and held out his hand, "Dr. John Carmichael, at your service, Miss…?"

I stood up, and took his hand. My mouth opened, but no sound came out for a moment, "Um…I'm sorry. My brain just shut down for a second there. My name is Harley Quinzel."

He paused, "Wait…as in Dr. Henry Quinzel?"

"Yeah, he's my father." I replied, flushing.

"He's a great surgeon!" his eyes lit up, "I've been following his cardiology work since the beginning of his career; when I went to Yale Med the last few years, I studied his methods."

After Yale Med, I was sold on this man completely.

Wouldn't you be?

"Yeah, that's my dad." I faltered, not knowing how to respond, "I am here to discuss a little business proposition with you."

"Of course," he said, ushering me toward his office.

Once we had sat down and made awkward small talk and I had been offered coffee at least 8 times, I finally got out what I had wanted to say, "So, I am a psychologist. I have a doctorate from NYU grad school, and I was wondering if you…"

"Need an associate?" he finished for me.

"Yes."

"Definitely, I don't see why not. The other half of this complex has been trying to be leased forever. You can assists with my neurology consults, too, if you'd like. It might be different than psychology, but I figure it's good knowledge."

"Really?" This was all too good to be true; I was waiting to be woken up and told I was in a coma ward or something. But, still, nothing brought me back to reality.

"Of course," he nodded, "How long have you been in the field?"

"5 years now. I worked at Arkham Asylum for the past 3 years, and before that, I was a consultant at Gotham General."

"Good credentials, I must say. So, you're from the city, I have to assume?" he smiled. It was such a lovely smile, so I kind of lost the words that had formed in my head.

I had to focus.

"Oh yeah, born and raised in NYC and Long Island, mostly." I grinned like an idiot, and immediately regretted it.

"Me, too…well, the NYC part…Manhattan, to be specific."

"I know the area well." I said, "So, why did you move here? I mean, this can't be too lucrative, and you're a Yale graduate, for God's sake!"

Wow. I need to just shut my mouth, and quit babbling like a 14 year old high school freshman with a massive crush on her lab partner.

"Oh, I just needed time away from the city…"

"Same here." I affirmed.

"Well, I suppose we have a deal, then. If you need any help setting up your office, I'm rather close. I am right next door, in fact."

I giggled.

I giggled?

"Thanks." I shook his hand again, standing up, "Well, I'd better get back to my house. I still have some major unpacking to do."

I turned to go, and he called, "Dr. Quinzel?"

"Harley." I corrected, smiling.

"Harley…would you like to maybe go get coffee sometime?"

"Like…a date?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes, like a date." He laughed, "Can I have your number?"

"Yeah," I wrote it on a Post-It note on his desk, "Don't make me regret giving it to you."

"You won't. I promise."

"Ok, I'll hold you to that promise." I was flirting. Seriously, flirting. I thought I couldn't remember how to do that, "Until our date then, Dr. Carmichael."

"John."

"John." I repeated, "Well, um, good-bye."

"Good-bye, Harley."

I closed the door behind me, and sank to the floor, grinning widely. I had a date! A real date! With a normal person and not a psychopath! Oh my God.

…

A few days later, I was painting my living room a nice shade of blue. I had a bit of a knack for design, although most people wouldn't guess it. I wouldn't say I'm the next Coco Chanel or something, but I've got a good idea of what looks attractive and what doesn't.

In this case, I didn't look very attractive, considering I was wearing an old pair of NYU sweat pants and an old ripped-up T-shirt from a 1998 No Doubt concert. Oh yeah, I looked like a fucking supermodel.

As always, I couldn't be excluded from embarrassing myself at least once a day.

My doorbell rang. I put down my brush, and peered out my front window to see who it was. Guess? Yes, it was hot doctor man.

Of course. That's my luck for you. He could have picked yesterday or even hours from now when I had showered and looked at least presentable to humankind.

I had to answer the door. That would be rude if I didn't.

I didn't even bother trying to make myself look any better. It was pointless.

I ran to the door, opening it enough for him to see my head and shoulders, "Hi."

"Hi, um, am I interrupting something?" his nose wrinkled, "Do I smell paint?"

"Yeah, you do. I'm painting the living room." I said. Wow. I'm so eloquent.

"Painting is a bitch. Do you need any help?"

"You, sir, are clearly not dressed for painting." I pointed out.

He was wearing a button-up shirt and suit pants. Much more outfit for the office rather than offering your soul to the paint devil and getting high off the fumes, and then having a massive headache later and…ok, I think that may have been enough explanation.

"No, that's ok, these clothes are rather old, anyway."

Ah, so he was making excuses to come in my house. I'll take it.

"Um, sure, you can help, then." I stammered, stepping aside for him to come in, "I apologize profusely for the mess."

"That's alright. You should have seen my apartment in college." He made a grimace, "My roommates and I were all pre-med, so all we really did except go to class was do homework. You can imagine. You were in grad school."

"Oh, I remember those days fondly." I laughed, "Did I say fondly? I mean they were nightmares."

He rolled up his sleeves, and I got a glimpse of his muscular forearms. Well, there went my focus.

"Don't worry. I completely understand." He stood on the ladder, reaching the higher parts that I was definitely going to have to risk falling off the ladder for, "Pre-med is hell."

"My sister was pre-med." I said. It came out before I thought about it.

"Oh really?" he paused and looked down at me, "What school?"

"Cornell," I replied.

"Great school. I couldn't turn down the scholarship to Yale though." John shrugged.

"Who would?" I said half-heartedly.

He noticed the change in my tone, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah…I just haven't thought about my sister in a while." I said quietly.

John furrowed his brow, apparently to decipher what I meant, and then his mouth formed a surprised O, "Oh my God…she…?"

"Yeah, last week." I looked away from him.

He climbed down quickly, putting the paint brush down, "Oh, Harley, I'm so sorry…I didn't mean to…"

"No, I brought her up." I stifled my tears, "I'm sorry. I don't like getting emotional like this in front of people I barely know."

He embraced me, "Please, it's ok to feel upset. I don't know what I'd do if my sister passed away so young."

"You have a sister?" I asked into his strong shoulder.

"Yeah, she's 3 years older than me, and won't let me forget it."

I laughed weakly, "That's how I was with her, too. I am – was – 5 years older."

"That's a big age difference." He commented.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry. I won't try to make awkward small talk anymore." He said sheepishly.

"It's ok. I appreciate it, you trying to lighten the mood. I'm the one who ruined the moment." I choked on my words.

"Woah, woah, don't cry!" John held me tighter.

After we stood there embracing for a few minutes silently, he pulled away, looking at me in the eyes, "Are you going to be ok?"

"Yeah, yeah." I wiped at my eyes, "I just hadn't tried to think about it."

"Understandably." He shook his head, "You can talk more about it with me sometime when you feel comfortable."

He wanted to see me again? After all this crying crap?

"Ok…" I said, shocked into submission.

"So, let's finish up this painting and I'll take you out to dinner tonight. How about that?" John grasped my hands.

"I would like that very much." I smiled. For once, in the longest time, it was real.


	27. Love Story

**A/N: Oh, I cranked out another one for all of you. I can't believe this story only has 3 chapters left...this was my baby...anyway, I'm for sure getting to the sequel. No clue what it's going to entail yet, but updates will be forthcoming...  
I like this other side of Harley. It makes me smile. Too bad this happiness won't last forever.  
I don't own DC COMICS characters, but I do own their actions in this fic. So...haha!**

Chapter 27: Love Story

_Romeo take me somewhere, we can be alone_

_I'll be waiting; all that's left to do is run_

_You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess_

_It's a love story, baby, just say yes._

"_Love Story," Taylor Swift_

As I got dressed for my first date in…oh, 5 years, I was pretty anxious. Obviously, something like previous boyfriends was bound to come up, and I wasn't exactly prepared for what I could tell him. If I told him the truth, that would be grounds for getting arrested. If I told him a half-truth, I might gain his sympathy but I'd still be lying. I might as well just lie in that case. I'd done enough of it already these past few months.

I hadn't honestly had meant to get that emotional over Maggie. It was still fresh in my mind, however, and it brought back so many feelings I had repressed since the incident. I missed her, that much was true, but I had to at least put it to the back of my mind for now.

I put on a chic little black dress (always a winner) and black flats. I assumed our date wouldn't be that formal, considering where we were. I doubted anyone over the age of 18 dated in this place, anyway.

He was waiting patiently downstairs for me; he hadn't left since we had finished painting the living room. I had to admit that he was a huge help. I wouldn't have been done painting for another day or two by myself.

I descended the stairs, a bit nervously. What would his reaction be?

When our eyes met, I think I might have seen a shimmer in them. Or maybe I'm still high off the paint fumes.

In any case, it was there, I promise.

"You look great." He said, offering me his arm, "Where to, milady?"

"Anywhere you'd prefer to go. You are paying, after all." I said as I locked my door.

"Ah, yes, true. Well, there's a nice little Italian place down the street. Is that to your liking?"

"Yeah, that sounds perfect."

It's better than spending a week in a warehouse.

…

As we were seated and had ordered our drinks (he ordered a nice white wine; classy), he asked, "So, what shall we talk about? The mundane first date 20 questions?"

"I'm down for that." I laughed, "I actually haven't been on a date in over 5 years."

"No kidding?" he appeared shocked, "A pretty girl like you? Man, men must be blind in the city."

I flushed a little at the compliment, "Nah, well, when you work in a mental asylum, no one is actually interested in your looks."

"How was working at a mental asylum? Was it difficult?"

"At times." I replied steadily, "I did work with some murderers at first, but they were the normal type. Er, well, if you consider them normal. Let me rephrase. They were more of the standard cases; I killed my wife because she cheated on me with my brother, I mugged a guy and accidentally killed him, and the other excuses."

"Did you work with any high-profile criminals? Like the straight-up psychos?" John took a sip of his wine.

"Yeah, I did work with the Joker." There I go again, not thinking before I speak.

"Really?" his eyes lit up with interest, "Was that…I mean, wow, how was that?"

"Tough," I said, "To sum it up in a word."

"Was he like they described in the news?"

"Yes, somewhat. I got to know his personal history, so that did make him seem a little more human than the media tends to contradict. He's not a terribly evil person, just extremely mentally unbalanced." I explained, "He had a really bad home life, so that kind of led to the crime syndicate and all of that shit."

"A bad home life really isn't an excuse for being a serial killer." John pointed out.

"No, believe me, I understand that. It's just something we as psychologists have to consider when deciphering their intentions…what made them go off the edge." I said.

"Ah, I see. Well, sorry to start this conversation on a depressing note. How about I change the subject?" he said lightly.

"Yeah, good plan." I was immensely relieved.

"Ok, um…what's your favorite color?"

"Red. Or pink…well, I can't decide. One of those two."

"And where did you grow up?"

"Mostly in New York City, Manhattan area; and I spent my summers in Long Island." I replied.

"Manhattan, huh? Were you near 7th avenue?"

"No, I was near 11th." I shook my head, "Penthouse apartments."

"Oh, fancy." He teased, "Well, I'd imagine, with your father being a doctor."

"And my mom is a lawyer." I added.

"In that case, more money." he said with a grin, "Did you want to be a doctor or a lawyer? Or did your parents just let you decide?"

"No, they were into the whole independent thing. I thought about being a doctor at one time, but I had more of an interest in psychology than anything else. I like to know what makes people tick, why people become who they are, that kind of thing." I said, red creeping into my cheeks, "Sorry, I must seem like a total nerd to you."

"Not at all." He took my hand and stroked my fingers, "Continue."

"Well, I was done with that thought. What about you? Your parents?" I felt like we were talking too much about me, and that shit would start spewing out if I wasn't careful.

"As I said, mostly grew up in Manhattan. My dad is a dentist and my mom was a secretary; we made decent money, sometimes it didn't seem we were making enough to support six people, but we managed well enough."

"Six people? So you have four siblings?"

"Yes; quick you are, Harley, with that simple math." He joked.

"Ha ha," I said sarcastically.

"Anyway, I have two brothers and one sister. My poor sister; she is the youngest and she got beat up on all the time. Although she always got the sympathy from my parents."

"The youngest tend to do that."

"Oh yeah, you know." He stopped, waiting for my reaction.

"It's ok." I smiled, "You can talk about her if you want. It still hurts to, but it will only help me in the long run."

"Alright, I was just making sure that you weren't going to get upset again." He looked relieved.

"Oh, please, crying in a public place would not look very good." I giggled. What was with all this giggling nonsense?

He relaxed, "Well, anyway, my father always wanted me to follow the whole dentistry path, but I had higher ambitions in life than that, I guess. I worked really hard in school, and it did pay off for me in the long run, considering my scholarships to Cornell, Yale, and Harvard. In the end, I chose Yale Med because, well, it's…Yale Med."

"Naturally," I said.

"I had the time of my life there. I played rugby, joined a frat…yeah, good times." He smiled, reminiscing, "I still got straight A's; I don't know I did it to this day. I barely slept during the week and not much on the weekends either."

"It's still a mystery how I passed some of my classes, too." I agreed, "I had this one difficult math course…finite math or something…it kicked my ass. My only B in college."

"You don't like math?"

"No, I kind of sort of really hate it. Like, I wish it would die in a hole. Or I could kill it, that would be a better plan."

He stared at me for a moment, trying to figure out if I was kidding with him, before he started to laugh, "Alright then. So you don't like math. I don't like English. I was awful at it."

"How could you be? You speak it."

"I can't write essays worth a damn." He shook his finger at me, "Next you're going to tell me that you were all A's English student."

"Fine, I won't tell you then." I folded my arms across my chest.

As our food arrived, we still chatted intermittently throughout the meal. It was really nice, just being out with someone and enjoying conversation, rather than…well, you all read my saga of misery.

After we had paid for our meal, we decided to take a walk around the park. It felt really easy to walk with him, holding his hand. I felt so much better than I had a very long time.

"So…hmm…we've covered a lot of the basics." He said pensively, "How about relationships? I can't believe you haven't been on a date in 5 years. That still boggles my mind, by the way."

"Ah…um…relationships…" I shifted in my seat.

"Oh, you're uncomfortable." He said quickly, "We don't have to discuss that."

"No, it's ok. How about you go first?"

"Well, alright. I had a girlfriend during med school; her name was Tracy. She was a great girl, perfect for me. Smart, witty, a good student like me. She had ambitions, too, and understood where I was coming from. She had all the qualities that I like in a woman. A lot like you, actually." He squeezed my hand.

I flushed a bit, "Flattery won't distract me, mister."

He chuckled, and continued, "After we graduated med school, we thought it would be a natural next step to get married."

Married?!

Just my luck.

I'm the other woman.

My shock must have registered on my face, and he shook his head vehemently, "Oh, I'm sorry! We're divorced!"

"Oh, thank God." I exhaled.

"Yeah, I should have explained that earlier."

"Yeah, you probably should have."

"Are you angry at me?" he paused.

"No, no, I'm not. I've only known you a few days. I'm not expecting your whole life story in one date." I smiled, hoping he got the hint that I wanted another date with him.

"Ah, well, you shall have to hear more stories sometime." He returned the smile, and my heart fluttered with excitement. Hurray, I'm not a leper!

"So…um, the divorce?" I was curious.

"Oh yes, that." He sighed, "I thought it was really meant to be. We got married when we were 24, so I guess that seemed the right timing. We had all these plans…we were happy for a while, and then unfortunately, things just seemed to go downhill. She didn't want kids at all, and I really didn't agree with that. I'm a family man, I guess."

"Yeah, I get that." I nodded.

"Anyway, we began fighting almost every day until it got to the point of ridiculousness. We were both really busy during our residency, so it surprised me that we fought so much…I guess it was just not being able to be around each other to figure things out was our downfall. Her career was much more important to her than I was. I'm not upset over it, but I was very disappointed in myself for holding on longer than I should have with her."

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't feel disappointed in yourself. I'm sure it wasn't all your fault. A divorce is almost always mutual or completely one-sided." I tried to comfort him, not wanting to see him upset like this.

We had long since seated ourselves on a bench, and the people in the park were beginning to leave, as it was growing later into the night. But, I wasn't tired. I wanted to keep listening to him; I wanted to learn about his life. Psychologist's curse.

"No, I know it was mutual. I wasn't willing to put in the effort, either, considering I was really focused on my residency. I was actually already contemplating the idea of just being a general practitioner, but Tracy was definitely against it, and I think that was the final straw. She tried to tell me that I was wasting my life doing that instead of becoming a surgeon, so I told her that it was over. I told her that we were just better off living our own lives the way we wanted, and if that meant not being together, then so be it. We divorced soon after that." He was silent for a moment.

"My relationships haven't been much better, if that's any consolation." I snuggled closer to him, and he put his arm around my shoulder.

"Well, enlighten me, then."

I wasn't prepared for that. Or maybe I was. Maybe I had been asking for it.

"Um…where to begin with this? I didn't date in high school. Good Lord, no one would have wanted to date me in high school. I was the smart kid; I had braces for like 3 years and I didn't get attractive until at least the middle of my senior year."

"Oh, I somehow doubt that." He smirked.

"Oh, if you saw pictures, you would believe me." I protested, "I have the yearbooks to prove it. Anyway, I got into NYU and that was kind of where I started feeling at home. I started making friends and finally getting attention from people. I joined a few clubs, got myself involved. It was the best decision I ever made. Then, um, Rob came around and changed everything."

"Rob, huh? Do I have to hunt this guy down?" he teased.

John sounded so much like…like…him for a moment, I had to stop my story. I tensed up a bit, and tried to push it to the back of my mind. Stop thinking about it, Harley, damn it.

John noticed my change, "I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?"

"No, no, I just had a brain freeze for a minute there." I lied quickly, "Well, as you know, I was a psych major, and Rob, he was political science major. I didn't like the guy at first; I thought he was an egotistical tool, but then we got assigned to a group together for our sociology class, and we started to get along. Eventually, we began dating. We dated for a good 5 years before he decided that banging my roommate was a better idea than going out with me."

I didn't mean to sound so bitter; I had pretty much gotten over it at this point in my life. Honestly, I hadn't thought about this instance in a while, and it brought back some painful memories.

"Damn, what a prick." He said, actually sounding angry about it, "I would never do that to a girl, no matter how tempting."

"Really?" I looked up at him, "You've never been in that circumstance."

"Have you?" he countered.

"No, no, but…I'm just saying. You never know until you're in the situation. You might think you'd never do something like that, but things do happen. That's why I didn't exactly go psycho on him when I found out. I felt a little better knowing that he did care about her. In fact, they got married 2 years later. I couldn't hold a grudge over that. But, I'm sure you could imagine I was rather upset at the time."

"Well, no shit." He snorted.

"I got over it, eventually. It did scare me away from dating for a few years. The only other relationship I've had just didn't…just didn't end well." I faltered.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Ah…well, he was a good guy, but I couldn't see myself spending my life with him." I tried to be as truthful as possible without telling the truth.

"I understand." He didn't seem to want to know more on the subject.

Whew, crisis narrowly averted.

He checked his watch, "Wow, it's almost midnight. I should probably take you home."

"Do you have work tomorrow?"

"Yeah, at 7 AM. So at this point, I'm looking at maybe 6 hours of sleep."

"Oops, sorry." I said, guilty for making him stay out this late.

"It's not a problem. I like spending time with you." He smiled, and it melted my heart.

We stood up, stretching our sore limbs, and we walked back to my house. He took me to my front door, and we stood there for a moment, making awkward before-kissing banter.

"Are you going to be setting up your office tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'll probably be there around 11. Do you want to have lunch together on your break?"

"Definitely."

"Ok, well, I'm going to be…heading in…then." I slowly turned to unlock my front door, but he grabbed my hand.

I faced him, looking up expectantly. He grasped my chin, tilting my face to meet his, and we kissed gently goodnight.

It was so unlike the one I had shared with…him, but in a way so much better. It felt like he was putting his heart into it, kissing me like nothing else mattered. That is what it's supposed to be like, not desperate and a way of making me not leave him again.

After a moment, we pulled away, and we smiled crookedly at each other. We both mumbled a strange semblance of 'goodnight, see you tomorrow' and I entered my house, closing the door behind me. I sank to the floor, feeling weak at the knees.

Oh yeah. I could definitely get used to this.


	28. Rescue Me Now

**A/N: Sorry, this one is a little shorter than the previous two have been. This is kind of a filler till I get to the massive explosion that is Chapter 29. Forgive me if the last couple chapters take a little longer to write, but they are going to be very emotional and I want them done very specifically. (Is that a word? o.O)  
But here is Chapter 28. Enjoy!**

**I don't own DC COMICS characters.**

Chapter 28: Rescue Me Now

_Under attack, I'm being taken_

_About to crack, defenses breaking_

_Won't somebody please have a heart?_

_Come and rescue me now, because I'm falling apart._

"_Under Attack," ABBA_

6 months had passed. I had grown adjusted to my new life in Apple Meadows. I had set up my office, had a steady flow of patients, and best of all, had an amazing man in my life. I, of course, hadn't been entirely surprised when John asked me to marry him. I said yes, naturally, and I was beyond ecstatic. I was finally getting to live the life I had planned.

Still, in the back of my mind, I knew something could go wrong at any moment. I suppose that was rather negative of me to assume, but given my luck in the past, I wasn't taking any chances. I did my best not to think about it during the following few weeks.

John and I sent out the wedding invitations; basically, it was my parents, his parents (who I still had not met, yikes), immediate family, and pretty much the entire town. All in all, it wouldn't be a grandiose affair. Just a nice little wedding in a nice little church. It was what we both wanted after living in the city for so long.

We chose not to have a wedding party, since the person who would have been my maid of honor was…well, you know. He didn't have any close friends anymore, so we felt that it would be unnecessary to have it. We wanted to make it a quick, easy ceremony, and a small reception at the local restaurant. It wasn't exactly my perfect picture of a wedding, but it was pretty damn close.

I was ready to get married. I was 28 now (my birthday had been a month ago), and well beyond ready to settle down and have a family. I had my dress, I had everything I wanted…

Of course, nothing ever goes according to plan.

…

It was the morning of my wedding. I was a nervous wreck, as I expected to be. Everything had run smoothly so far, but you could never be sure.

My mother came up to the second floor of the church to help me get dressed. As we put on the dress, she smiled at me, "You look so beautiful, Harley. John is very lucky. I can't believe that this day actually came. Your father and I were getting nervous there for a little while."

"Thanks for the confidence, Mom." I said sarcastically, but yet fondly at the same time.

Her eyes welled with tears, "I remember my wedding…"

"Oh, Mom, please don't start. You're going to make me emotional, too. I'd prefer not to have that now. I'll cry all I want once the reception is over. But not now, please." I begged her.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I can't help it. This is the only wedding I will be able to go to for my child…" It sounded like she was going to say 'children', but held back.

I embraced her, "Mom, it's alright. I know that you're thinking about Maggie. I don't blame you. I think about her pretty much all the time."

"It's been difficult." She admitted, "But your father and I are so happy for you, Harley. We know he will make you so happy."

"Thanks," I beamed. It was good to hear her approval.

She looked at her watch, "Well, I'd better be taking my seat."

She hugged me again, "You will do great. I'll send your father up in about 10 minutes to take you down the aisle."

"Ok." I watched her leave the room, and looked at myself in the mirror.

I looked so much better than I had in months; my skin was glowing and I just looked so happy. The change had been exactly what I needed. Everything was going to change, and I was looking forward to it.

"Harley?" a voice behind me asked.

I froze where I stood. No. No. NO!

I slowly turned around to make sure.

Oh yeah. That was really just what I needed. It was him.

"Seriously?! God damn it!" I cursed at him, "What the fuck do you want from me?"

"A chance." He stepped forward, and I held out my hand.

"I gave you plenty of those. Get out!" I couldn't even believe this was happening again.

"Wow, harsh, Harley." He smirked.

"GET OUT!" I screamed, not knowing what else to do, "Get out of my wedding! RIGHT NOW!"

Obviously, screaming wasn't doing the trick. He didn't budge. He just stood there, with his poring green eyes and those unmistakable scars twisted into one of his sick grins.

"Ok, fine, I'll level with you. Why are you here?" I was wearing make-up; I wasn't going to bother with crying. I was over that by now.

"I'm here to convince you not to marry this prick."

"Yeah, well, too late." I snapped, facing myself in the mirror, hoping he'd just disappear. Didn't I almost have it all?

"It's not too late." He protested, "Sure, you're here in the dress and the church and all that shit, but it's not like you've walked down the aisle already."

"Stop talking." I said shortly, "It grinds my nerves further than they can go. Please, just stop talking. Give me the real reason you've come here."

"I already told you." He sighed, "It's because I love you, Harley. I'm not seeing you marry Mr. Seemingly Perfect."

"No, he is perfect. And you want to know why? Because HE ISN'T YOU!" I tried to turn around quickly for dramatic effect, but it was rather impossible in the dress, so that ended up failing me miserably.

He just laughed.

The sound irritated me like you wouldn't believe, "STOP!"

He did so immediately.

"How can you laugh at me? I'm fucking livid right now. I could seriously kill you!"

"You wouldn't." he rolled his eyes.

"I beat your ass down back at the cemetery. I'd do it again."

"I let you." He said.

"Shut up!" I cut him off, "That's not the point. The point is that when my life starts getting back on track and I become happy again, you decide to show up and RUIN EVERYTHING."

"That's not my intention."

"Then what is it? Really, I'd like to know before I kill you." I was fighting back angry tears. My father would have to be coming up soon; he'd have to leave.

He sat down in the chair across from me, "Harley, I'm not trying to ruin your life. Fate keeps bringing us back together."

"That's a lie!" I exclaimed, "You plan this! You're a conniving mass murderer; it's in your fucking blood!"

"Ok, fine, I planned this." He conceded, "But, I couldn't see you marry someone else. I would die before that happened."

"Why?" I asked, my voice weary, "Why do you love me? I do nothing but leave you."

"Yeah, and that hurts like hell. But I still love you."

"Even though I beat you down?"

"I guess I like it." He shrugged.

"You're a sick bastard, you know that?" I almost cracked a smile, but then thought, 'What the hell?! Why would I smile at that?'

"Don't marry him."

"Sorry, I am." I said firmly.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?" I was beyond exasperation at this point.

"Why do you want to marry him?"

"Because he loves me, and he will give me stability and a comfortable life. What do you have to offer me except a dirty, broken-down warehouse and verbal abuse? Oh yeah, and the fact that you're in a crime syndicate…not exactly a white-collar job." I replied.

"Do you really mean that?"

"What I say? I mean every word that I say to you. Yeah, I feel terrible that I left you, but I did the right thing by it. I was unhappy with you. Get it through your head. You're not going to change; scratch that, you're never going to change, especially not for me. You don't love me enough to do that. The only way you would change is if you went straight, and unfortunately for you, that would mean a life sentence in jail, and I would not wait for you." I said bluntly, "I would not wait for you, no matter how much I cared. I would just do this again."

"Please give me another chance." Was he actually serious?

"No."

"Harley…"

"NO."

"Why won't you?"

"I said no, and that's final, god damn it!" I picked up the hem of the dress, and began to walk for the door, "I have to go get married now. If I see you in there, I will not hesitate to stop the ceremony to beat your fucking ass to the ground."

"Harley, think about this for a minute." He grabbed my arm, "If you go down there, I promise that it's not going to end well."

"Are you threatening me?" I halted.

"No. I'm just saying…"

I didn't even bother to listen, "Good-bye, and please don't ever your show face around me again."

And I slammed the door in his face, feeling like the most horrible person in the world. To this day, I will never forget the look of pure anguish on his face.

But I had to forget for right now. I couldn't let my emotions show when I walked down the aisle to meet John. He was going to be my husband, and…the Joker, well, he could just take it. He had to know this was coming.

My father was waiting for me at the head of the church.

"What took you so long?" he asked, looking at me curiously.

"Oh, just a little nervous, that's all." I lied quickly.

"Understandable," The proud look in my father's eyes was undeniable, "Well, are you ready? Are you ready to spend your life with the man waiting for you?"

"Yes, Daddy." I smiled up at him.

"I'm so happy for you, that you've found someone that will love you for the rest of your life. I hope you two will be as successful in life as your mother and I have been." He said.

"Thanks," I didn't know what else to say.

The music began from inside the church, and the hand clasping my father's tensed.

"You're going to be fine." He squeezed back.

"I know." I said.

"Alright, here we go." He whispered.

I took a deep breath, and took a step forward.

…


	29. The Final Blow

**A/N: One more left till the end...for now. I don't own DC Comics characters.**

Chapter 29: The Final Blow

_The walls start breathing_

_My mind's unweaving_

_Maybe it's best you leave me alone_

_A weight is lifted on the evening_

_I give the final blow._

"_It Ends Tonight," The All-American Rejects _

If things did not happen as they did, I wouldn't have believed it. I would have told you that you were crazy. I would have kicked and screamed until you admitted you were wrong. Unfortunately, it was all going to come crashing down, and soon.

I realized as I walked down that aisle that I had gone soft. I was not the person I used to be, and the person that I truly wanted to be inside.

It was too late now. John was what I wanted. I wanted this normal life. Didn't I?

The music was deaf on my ears, and everything seemed to go in slow motion, like I was watching from the sidelines. Everyone's faces was blurred; the only one I could see in that congregation was him, staring at me with the saddest eyes I had ever known.

It was all but breaking me down.

I couldn't even John's face at the front of the aisle. I assumed that he was smiling, glowing even to see me at my best, to see me as his wife. Would I ever be happy? What was wrong with me?

I kept walking, not feeling the ground beneath my feet. People stood up as I walked down, smiling at me, but I couldn't register any emotion. My face was blank. All I could focus on was the fact that he was here, and that he was in love with me and I was breaking his heart.

I shouldn't care.

I should care about the man waiting for me.

Everything that happened next was not what I had planned. Of course, nothing ever is.

The Joker stood up, and I stared at him. Our eyes met, and in that moment, I knew that I loved him. I halted where I stood, impacted by that sudden thought.

I still stared at him, frozen solid.

He moved, just barely. He still stared at me as he pulled out a gun. It shone against the light streaming through the stained-glass windows.

He stood under a statue of an angel, my very dark own angel without his wings. I couldn't even deny the irony in that.

I couldn't move anymore. My blood had run cold in my veins; I was like ice. He was going to kill me, and I was going to let him.

I deserved what was coming to me. He wanted to kill me. He had been planning this all along, ever since the cemetery.

I closed my eyes shut, not wanting to see the bullet.

As my eyes were squeezed shut, I heard screams like background noise.

A shot was fired.

I waited for the pain, for the agony, to see the light, my life flash before my eyes, and hear the bells ringing in my ears.

But I felt nothing.

I opened my eyes, and looked down. Not a drop of blood on me.

It was then that I realized that his target hadn't been me.

I had opened my eyes in time to see John fall to the ground, a bullet shot right through his head.

I remember screaming, but I couldn't hear myself.

Everything was chaos around me; people were running, frightened and like rats on a sinking ship. Suddenly I could see it all clear. I saw the look of shock on John's face, and saw his body crumple to the ground like a rag doll.

I kept screaming, and screaming, but no one heard me among the din.

My heart raced in my chest, and I couldn't even think straight. I pushed wildly through the crowd, trying to get to John, to touch him, to tell him everything would be alright…even though I knew in my heart wouldn't be.

I rushed to him, and the minute I reached him, I knew he was already dead. He had to be. A shot to the head never ends in a miracle. I stared down at him, not knowing how to feel.

All of the emotions I had inside came out right then; I let out a strangled cry, and fell onto my fiancé's body, sobbing harder than I ever had in my life.

It was the most difficult thing I've ever done, holding John's body in my arms. I saw my tears fall onto his blood-stained face, feeling like I should die. I had loved him, and the Joker destroyed it all again. How could he do this to me? I had been happy.

But suddenly I realized that I would never be happy without him in my life. He was meant to be there, tormenting me forever.

I don't know how I knelt there, cradling John's body and shaking violently. My dress was ripped and ruined, but I didn't care anymore. In this moment, I just wanted everything to end.

I felt my mother and father try to pull me away from John, but I held fast, still crying like I would never stop.

It was then I looked up and saw the face of my fallen angel across the room. He stared at me with a look one could compare to anguish, and he pulled a match out from his pocket.

I wondered vaguely what he would do with it, and then noticed in front of him, a puddle of viscous liquid, dark and thick.

He was going to burn the church down.

He was going to kill all these people.

I jumped up, mind suddenly alert. I ran to the front doors of the church, losing my parents in the confusion. I pushed and pulled at the doors, pounding on them with all the effort I could muster, but no luck. He had locked them, barricaded them.

I collapsed on the floor, barely breathing. The smoke was suffocating me. I had to find a way out. I needed to live. I couldn't let myself die like this, not while he was still living. He wouldn't get away with this that easily.

I shoved people away as I ran for the back of the church, trying to find a bathroom. It would have to have a window. I found a door on my right, and pushed it open. There was a small window, but it was definitely big enough for me to get through. I stood on the sink, slipping on the marble. I took off my shoes, and threw one through the glass, shattering it.

I climbed out the window and fell ungracefully onto the grass outside the church. I coughed violently, trying to release the smoke and ash from my lungs. I began crawling away from the building.

Once I had made it to a safe distance from the burning building, I stood up shakily, staring at the wreckage in front of me.

I sank weakly to my knees, tears running silently down my face.

This was too much for one heart to bear.

I felt like my heart was ripping apart at the seams, like the pain would never end.

This seriously doesn't happen to normal people.

My parents were dead now, too, the people who cared me about the most…and John, the one who wanted to treat me like a queen, the innocent people of this town that I doomed by living here. It was my fault. I was the one responsible for all of this madness, for all of this death.

God, why don't you just strike me down now while you have the chance?

I'd be better off dead, with everything I know and love gone.

I then saw the Joker's retreating figure in the distance. He dropped the smoldering match onto the sidewalk as he strode away.

I knew exactly what I had to do.


	30. Walk this World Alone

Chapter 30: Walk this World Alone

_I am not afraid to keep on living_

_I am not afraid to walk this world alone_

_Honey if you stay, I'll be forgiven_

_Nothing you can say can stop me going home._

"_Famous Last Words," My Chemical Romance_

I had to keep on going.

I had to keep on living.

I had to make sure that he was dead, and that he was out of my life forever.

He couldn't get away with this.

He _wouldn't_ get away with this.

He messed with the wrong fucking girl. He toyed with my emotions, he took away all that was sane in me.

He ruined my life. He ruined everything that mattered to me.

Now I was alone.

He may think that I'm down, and I'm sure as hell not out.

I will be like the phoenix rising from the ashes, the rubble from whence it met its end. He killed Harlene Quinzel. He wants Harley Quinn. He's going to get her.

Harley Quinn will make sure she is avenged. She will risk everything because she has nothing to lose. She is different. She is not emotional, she is not blind, and she certainly isn't going to take it anymore.

She will kill if her life depends on it. She will steal, she won't trust anyone but herself. She will be everything he wants her to be. She will let him know how dangerous that really will be.

Harley Quinn has been born, and she's going to go out with a bang.

_What's the worst that I could say?_

_Things are better if I stay_

_So long and goodnight,_

_So long and goodnight._

If you want to continue with this series, please check out Part 2:

.net/s/4840639/1/Mad_Love_Series_Part_II_From_the_Ashes


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